#the fact it sounds somewhat normal at high speed

[rustyelias]

I really enjoy that whenever there is a post about mag 003 I will see it multiple times through out the day. The mag 003 community is truly beautiful

anyways I am currently listening to mag 003 at 2.5x speed along with metal pipe falling sound and amongus trap remix.

[chilling-seavey]

National Anthem (gr63, ds)

↳ A/N The wonderful T-Anon (my og followers know!) introduced me into the world of Formula 1 and, of course, now I'm obsessed. What else is there to do but write something [sinfully] self-serving that incorporates both of my faves? I'm nervous to post this because last time I posted a multi-fandom fic, I got mega anon hate so I'm hoping this goes over well... 🙃

↳ Summary: As VIP guests of Scuderia Ferrari - thanks to Daniel’s best friend as one of their elite Formula 1 drivers - you have the privilege of travelling to Monte Carlo for the Monaco Grand Prix. While on this getaway, you and Daniel decide to lean into the grandeur status of the Monaco Circuit and celebrate the weekend in a way you normally wouldn’t back at home - and that comes in the form of a luxury yacht party and a handsome Mercedes driver who seemed to capture your eye from your first day in the paddock

↳ Pairings: Daniel Seavey x Reader, George Russell x Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 41.0k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, mmf threesome, one night stand, voyeurism, use of explicit language, oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation, minor choking and spitting, some derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex (whoops), no Carlos in this (so sorry, but I had to give Daniel a familiar friend in this universe), & heavy manifesting of a Leclerc Monaco Win™

In the comfortable warmth of the Mediterranean sun, you nursed your icy drink in hand to the roaring sound of racing engines speeding along the streets of Monaco. It was a place you had never expected to be, with a VIP lanyard around your neck donning the Scuderia Ferrari logo against vibrant red, sipping on cocktails and grazing on expensive dishes as you overlooked the Saturday Qualifying races for the 81st Monaco Grand Prix. The open air rooftop of the Paddock Club overlooked turn eighteen of the circuit and kept the ambiance of the elite in high spirits with lively music and an open bar, the view of the harbour and the lush mountainous city of Monte Carlo in the near distance. 

Not much of a Formula 1 enthusiast yourself, you felt a bit like a fraud being so present and doted upon by the staff of the Paddock Club while you were surrounded by genuine VIPs from public figures and star-studded personnel alike. It wasn’t unfamiliar to you to be in the vicinity of the odd celebrity as your boyfriend’s career in the Los Angeles music industry scene allowed for some interactions in passing with those whom he worked with. But at least in those instances, you held at least somewhat of an understanding of what was going on. Here, watching twenty race cars weaving through tight curves and narrow streets at unbridled speeds, you were out of your element. 

Said boyfriend - your own personal ray of sunshine with eyes that could arguably put the Mediterranean blue skies to shame - was finishing off his third margarita in the span of just over an hour-and-a-half since you had arrived at the rooftop. Donning an official Scuderia Ferrari t-shirt that clung to him in all the right places, he made focusing on the final qualifying race going on below incredibly difficult for you. If it was one thing you had going for you was the fact that you knew Daniel much more confidently than you knew the ins and outs of Formula 1. Despite your shameless glances at him at your side, you didn’t dare to interrupt his focus since he was completely enthralled by the race. His wide blue eyes darted across each passing car down below as he sipped the remainder of his drink, on high alert for the individual whom you owed your little VIP vacation to. 

“Ah!” Daniel suddenly yelped excitedly, pointing a finger over the railing to the red racing car donning the number 25 that zipped around the corner directly in front of you and then tore up the short straight before disappearing around another bend to complete his lap. “There he goes!”

Since meeting in grade school, Daniel and Corbyn had been best friends for almost as long as they could remember. Even with Corbyn traveling back and forth between Europe and the States during his karting days as a boy and, later, as he navigated the senior categories paving his way to his dream of F1, the two of them never drifted. In fact, Daniel was the only one of Corbyn’s friends from home who stayed loyal and true through all those years, always his biggest support system outside of his immediate family, and the first one he called to share the news that he was moving to Monaco at only twenty-one. That being said, of course it was only fair that Corbyn hosted his dearest friend at some of his races whenever he could and there was no better weekend than the infamous Monaco Grand Prix. 

With Corbyn living in Europe and almost always traveling the world with his lavish career as a driver for Scuderia Ferrari, you had only met him a handful of times in person when he would come to visit Daniel in Los Angeles once or twice a year. He had such a busy schedule, in fact, that even though the two of you were invited as guests of his that weekend, you still had yet to meet up with the young man who was arguably your host. Regardless, you decided to look at that weekend as a romantic vacation for two, an all expenses paid trip to one of the most luxurious countries on the globe as VIPs for a world-renowned organization. 

“That’s so cool.” Daniel beamed, tearing his eyes away from the track to look at you instead before he shared the news as if it were new information, “That’s my best friend! Isn’t he awesome?”

His obvious love for his closest friend mirrored that of brothers and you couldn’t help but smile at his transparent pride, answering him honestly, “He’s incredible.” 

Your agreement only had Daniel soaring and he shimmied his shoulders in a little dance as he drained the rest of his drink up his straw. Taking the glass from him as a few nearby patrons glanced over at the obnoxious slurping, you set it on the bar-height table nearby and then rested your hand on his arm. 

“And, baby,” you started softly, only interrupted by Daniel’s soft ‘mhm’ in acknowledgement as he stared at you and awaited your comment, “you look so incredible.”

Daniel leaned in smoothly to kiss your lips once, twice, and before you could raise your hand up to the side of his neck for a third, he was tearing away from you at the incoming roar of the shiny red car and he pumped his fist in the air with a whoop as number 25 zoomed past again. 

The final qualifying session finished at 5:00 and, promptly, you and Daniel left the festivities on the rooftop for your next destination of the evening. You still had some time to kill before your scheduled meeting time with Corbyn but Daniel was not willing to risk being late - even if he played it off like he wasn’t worried. So, sufficiently buzzed on expensive drinks from that afternoon’s excitement, you navigated your way towards the adjacent F1 paddocks hand in hand. 

Another perk of those classy lanyards you were supplied with meant that you had access to a lot of the behind the scenes areas where the public wasn’t allowed. Standing at the turnstiles under the F1 branded archway, you each scanned your pass and with a display of your name and host’s name on the screen, you were able to step through. Once inside the paddock, Daniel’s hand naturally fell into yours like you were regulars and you began your slow walk along the pavement that was packed with bustling team members and media crew alike. 

For as far as you could see - or so it felt like - was branded Formula 1 team equipment and technical apparatus. Down the straight alley, the right side was lined with impressive towering motorhomes for each of the teams. The motorhomes as well-designed structures acted as a way to showcase the luxury and pride of the team’s brand while also proving to be some sort of unspoken architectural competition of who could put together the most impressive hub. Most towering at three-storeys high, they each had a sense of uniqueness to them that captured your attention from the first glance; Mercedes’ clean lines and all black exterior had their silver larger-than-life logo glittering in the late afternoon sun while Haas’ curves and vibrant white coddled their modest one-storey in something easily inspired by the mechanics of racing. 

Across from each of the motorhomes, across the main straight of the paddock, were the teams’ trucks and containers in which they housed and carted their equipment, necessities, and, of course, their cars. It all looked a bit overwhelming but, at the same time, neatly organized. In an industry that was always on the move, it was an absolute necessity to keep everything in order whenever possible. Team members in branded polos and official uniforms bustled back and forth between motorhomes and equipment containers, zig zagging across the spacious paved straight with a task to do. Qualifying might have been over for the public but there never seemed to be a lull in the behind the scenes work. 

You and Daniel walked all the way to the end of the paddock where the Haas team was set up before looping back around to head back the way you came. You tried your best not to get in anyone’s way but there was so much happening and so many people coming and going that a few times you ended up having to let go of Daniel’s hand for a team member or two to barrel right between you. The media presence seemed to pick up as more of the drivers returned from their garages, all the journalists eagerly thrusting microphones at them to try and get their thoughts on their performances during qualifying. You only recognized maybe one or two from Corbyn’s instagram feed when the odd friend would be tagged in one of his weekend photo-dumps but you definitely didn’t have anyone memorized by name or enough to feel starstruck. Daniel, who grew up alongside one of these drivers and who worked in an industry that was just as star-studded for different reasons, didn't bat an eyelash either. 

The red and silver three-storey building of Ferrari’s motorhome was second from the entrance to the paddock and there was where you were scheduled to meet Corbyn when he finished with his responsibilities. Similarly to some of the other designs along the paddock, Ferrari’s architecture mirrored that of the style that one would find in mechanic’s garages but with a touch of luxury that seemed to be ever present in the world of Formula 1. The potted topiary trees outside the tinted front windows were a nice, homey touch, and as you and Daniel fell to a stop to wait, you reached out your free hand to touch the greenery. 

“It’s real.” you said softly to him. 

“It looks too green to be real.” Daniel doubted you as he touched the leaves himself. “Holy shit, it is real. How do they keep it that…alive?”

“Rich Italian Ferrari water.” you suggested playfully. 

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Sparkling water, even.”

From behind you, two hands rested heavily on one of your shoulders each and, startling as if you were about to be scolded for touching the shrubbery, Corbyn quickly eased your momentary anxieties with a smooth, “Nah, we actually feed them gasoline just like the cars.”

Ignoring his joke for the priority of their long awaited reunion, Daniel spun around to greet his best friend with an enthusiastic call of his name and a slap of their palms together and they yanked each other into a tight hug. You took a small step back to give them their moment, smiling affectionately at the scene as they embraced and swayed in place in a quarter circle. Corbyn was still wearing his red Ferrari race suit that was half unzipped and bunched around his waist, leaving him in only his fireproofs beneath, finished with a matching branded red Ferrari cap which he used to attempt to tame his messy brown hair. Just behind him, almost hidden by the two six-foot-tall best friends, was a young woman with a professional camera hung around her neck with the utmost care. She, too, was watching the reunion with fondness before sparing you a split second glance. 

Pulling away from their hug, Daniel and Corbyn shared their secret handshake they had coined as teenagers and Daniel praised him as they did, “Great job out there today!”

Corbyn kept his wide grin on his face and set his hands on his hips with a modest shrug, “Not really, but thanks.”

“What are you talking about? P4 is really good!” Daniel protested. 

“Not on a circuit where overtaking is virtually impossible but I won’t bore you with the technicalities.” Corbyn chuckled before then turning to you with an arm outstretched, greeting you by name with a quick hug and a, “So glad you could make it.”

“Of course!” you gushed, “Thank you so much for inviting us out here.”

“Don’t mention it. We’d never say no to having some more cheerleaders on deck.” Corbyn teased with a friendly slap to Daniel’s bicep. Before Daniel could offer any rebuttal, Corbyn was turning to the young woman whom he had approached with and he introduced you both by name before offering her introduction to you, “Guys, this is Tabitha: my girlfriend as well as the best photographer on the grid.” 

“Co-workers to lovers, I see, I see.” you teased before directing to the young woman across from you, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” she offered politely. 

“Hardly co-workers to lovers when we were both silently pining after each other since our very first day here.” Corbyn nudged her playfully, “Right?”

Her little eye roll was balanced with a bashful smile, “Yeah, yeah. Took us long enough and whatever else.”

“How cute.” you swooned.

Daniel directed his half-joking question to her next, “You keeping an eye on my best friend here? Keeping him out of trouble?”

“Oh my gosh, she’s hardly his security guard.” you smacked his arm. “I’m sure she’s got her own trouble to keep out of - especially around all these crazy men in this place.”

The two of you women shared small smiles that went over the heads of your boyfriends but she replied to your defence with a wave of her hand, “You’d actually be surprised how often I sometimes have to play mediator. Little boys, most of them.”

“Not me.” Corbyn scoffed with a cheeky smile and tossed his arm around her shoulders to pull her into his side, “I’m the easiest.”

“Yeah, okay.” she chuckled. 

“So you’ve been working here, like, what? Five years now?” you asked her. 

Tabitha nodded, “Sounds about right. Although I’ve pretty much breathed F1 all my life.” 

“Oh, wow.” you gaped. “So this position was a dream for you?” 

“Definitely.” 

“I love that.” you smiled fondly at the confession of achieved dreams, offering some more information on yourself to your newly acquainted, “I just got into it recently because I didn’t want to look like a complete dunce when we came here. Other than the knowledge Daniel knows from Corbyn, I’ve been filling in the gaps by watching the Netflix show.”

The flicker of an amused smirk grazed Tabitha’s face but you didn’t quite catch it as you glanced at Daniel with a proud smile of your own. The Formula 1 docu-series produced by Netflix followed each season of the prior few years in the racing industry, giving an inside glimpse into the life of the drivers and their teams alike. To you, as an outsider, it was perfectly fascinating, but to the inside few who had to deal with the constant live filming, camera crews getting in the way, and presumptuous questions from the film industry, it was less than ideal in most situations. 

Therefore, Corbyn replied to your statement with a half-joking, “Honestly, I’m surprised they aren’t here shoving cameras in our faces right now.” 

Tabitha, who much preferred her art form of photography over the opposing scheme of invasive videography that seemed to be growing in popularity thanks to Netflix, added under her breath, “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

As if on her same wavelength - or maybe he noticed the way her hand tightened almost protectively around her camera lens in some metaphorical habit - Corbyn took a step away from his girlfriend to ask her with a smile, “Hey, think you can take a few pictures of my VIPs? It’d be sick to add them to my Instagram photo-dump tomorrow.”

“Yeah, of course.” Tabitha lifted her camera, “Get in there.”

Corbyn hopped the few half steps over to you and Daniel and he weaseled his way in between you, draping am around each of you with his photo-ready grin already directed towards the camera. Tabitha adjusted her settings a bit and then peered through the viewfinder of her expensive camera, meticulously framing you three in the composition with the backdrop of the Ferrari motorhome behind you. With VIP lanyards hung around your neck, you and Daniel seemed to fit right in on either side of the world-renowned racecar driver. But, just like tried and true best friends, Daniel held up four fingers with a cheeky grin, referencing Corbyn’s placement from that afternoon’s qualifying race, earning him a smack to his hand by said unimpressed driver. 

With a few photos snapped, you then huddled around the camera to see the results, admiring the crystal clear focus and stunning lighting that Tabitha modestly attributed to the late afternoon sun when your praises came in influx. She promised to send them to Corbyn as soon as they returned to their hotel room later that night so he could forward them onto you. Then, when Corbyn pitched the offer to take you inside the Ferrari motorhome for a proper tour, she politely excused herself from your group with pleasantries of ‘nice to meet you’ and some passing excuse that she should get a few more shots before the drivers wrapped up and headed out for the evening. 

Corbyn seemed unbothered by her sudden departure although his eyes lingered on her for a few seconds as she walked off before he turned his ever-present smile back to the two of you. With a clap of his hands together, he said, “Let’s get this tour started, shall we?”

Daniel stepped aside with a gesture of his hand, “After you.”

Corbyn hopped up the front steps of the Ferrari motorhome with grace after near years of practice and pulled open one of the double glass doors to lead you inside, “Welcome home. Or, as we say here at Scuderia Ferrari: benvenuto.”

Stepping over the threshold of the motorhome entryway, you were met with a modest size space lined with square tables which were circled by Ferrari red dining chairs across dark grey vinyl tile floors. Despite the team members that dotted the space in their uniforms and work shoes, the floors still appeared impressively spotless as if the luxury of it all could also purchase the ability to stay pristine. Motorsport had the ability to get messy fast and keeping their equipment and spaces in tip top shape only helped the cogs to turn smoother - and smooth was key in the world of F1. 

Along the far wall of the cafeteria space was a bar counter that spanned about half the length of the space and on top was a neat arrangement of serving dishes topped with pastries and snacks and various cut up fruits and vegetables. A lady behind the bar in a Ferrari polo was arranging the platters and pouring drinks for crew members who came by, but it seemed that once Corbyn stepped inside, everyone’s attention turned to him. Their overlapping greetings were warm and friendly and even being a stranger amongst the group, you could easily feel the overwhelming sense of family that grew. 

Once he said his quick hellos to the group, he turned his attention back to you and Daniel to begin the tour, “So, the first floor is catering. We usually always have at least snacks and things over there on the bar, but the door behind leads to the kitchen where we have genuine Italian chefs always at the ready to cook you up whatever you’re feeling.”

“For free?” you asked without thinking. 

Corbyn sent you a pointed look, “Yes.”

You and Daniel exchanged impressed glances before following Corbyn across the spacious dining area to the stairs and you moved up to the second floor. When you exited the staircase, you were met with an open communal area donning red sofas and white lounge chairs as well as collaborative round tables with black leather chairs all resting atop commercial grade carpet. The LED strip lighting along the ceiling really brightened the space if not for the floor to ceiling windows on the front façade overlooking the paddock beyond. The tables were dotted with small potted plants and pads of Ferrari branded paper with matching pens on top and the walls were lined with framed memorabilia from Ferrari’s rich racing history and heritage. 

“This is our lounge space.” Corbyn introduced as you circled the floor slowly on your tour, trying not to bother the few small groups of team members that were huddled around a table or chatting on the sofa, “We come up here to chill or to have informal meetings sometimes.”

“This is classy.” Daniel whistled, dragging his fingertips over the back of one of the leather chairs on the way past. 

“And no lounge is complete without a bar.” Corbyn gestured to the mini bar along the back wall. Daniel agreed easily, still feeling the lingering effects of that statement from that afternoon at the Paddock Club.

The lounge was slightly more narrow than the first floor footprint as some of the space was taken up by rooms hidden by frosted glass doors. Walking along that wall which was adjacent to the front windows, the first one donned discrete and classy white lettering across the glass reading ‘team principal’. 

Corbyn said quietly to the two of you, “Team principal’s office. Unfortunately off limits on this tour.”

The next frosted door led to a private meeting room which housed a fair sized oval table lined with red leather seats and a large flat screen TV on one wall for presentations and meetings. Corbyn explained how they often came in there to sign merchandise for fans or other similar projects. The third frosted door was the administration room where a few tables were set up with computers and laptops and other various equipment, three team members working away inside without even an ounce of distraction on their faces. 

“The brains behind the operation take place in here.” Corbyn said, “Everything from marketing to hospitality to travel plans are all based out of this room, pretty much. They organize the logistics of when we have to start taking things down to move onto the next city for the next race weekend.”

Cocking your head to the side, you asked, “What do you mean ‘take things down’? Take what down?”

Corbyn spread his arms out, “This. The motorhome. The garages. Everything.”

Your eyes widened, “This doesn’t stay here? This huge structure?”

“No.” Corbyn chuckled at your innocent cluelessness and Daniel just smiled fondly at you as his best friend went on to explain, “We’re taking up a good chunk of the streets of Monaco right now. After race weekend we basically have to disappear like we were never here and take all of this to be set up in our next location. The motorhomes are built basically like stackable cubes for ease of transportation. Dope, right?”

You were speechless for a beat, merely blinking at him, open mouthed, “Yeah.”

Corbyn led you farther down the length of the transportable building to two final doors, each housing a shiny red number in the F1 font - 16 and 25, respectfully. Larger than life low-opacity decals were almost disappearing into the haze of the frosted glass, each being a headshot of each of Ferrari’s two drivers. 

Corbyn tapped his own face on his door, “And these are our personal rooms as drivers. Our trainers can help us with some minor routine exercises in here or sometimes we have massages before the race to help loosen us up and stuff. Basically these are just our own little spaces to break away from everything if we need to.”

He slid the door open for a peek inside his room, although it wasn’t anything too crazy or impressive - just the necessities. One wall housed a red leather couch that could double as a massage table with the right adjustment to the metal bars beneath and the opposite wall had a built-in cabinet with a quaint table tucked in the corner. The landscape action shot of Corbyn’s Ferrari race car took up the length of the wall between the two but he also had taped his own polaroids and photographs to the plain white that covered the interior of his space. You noticed a few of him and Daniel and some with his family and many with the other drivers just goofing around…and only one, right in the center, of him and Tabitha in the Ferrari garage, taken as if they hadn’t known anyone was watching, just in innocent conversation. It was so candid and so natural and so calm, and yet it still made you smile. 

As Corbyn closed the door again, ready to move onto the next location on your journey, you were interrupted by someone approaching and a greeting in an accent you couldn’t quite place, “Oh, we have guests.”

You and Daniel turned to see who it was, finding yourselves face to face with Scuderia Ferrari’s very own il Predestinato, the predestined one, Charles Leclerc. He was wearing the same race suit as Corbyn, of course, although his was a striking white and his matching white branded cap had a striking asymmetrical pattern of red diamonds along one side. With a warm smile framed in charismatic dimples and green eyes that nearly sparkled, he didn’t wait for Corbyn to introduce you before he was thrusting out his hand and introducing himself. 

“Charles. You must be the friends’ of Corbyn’s. He has been talking about you coming all week.”

You and Daniel each shook his hand with amused expressions that were countered by Corbyn’s tisk that came from the call-out from his teammate and Daniel took the initiative to introduce the both of you himself and you exchanged pleasantries. 

“So, you've been enjoying Monaco, non?” Charles asked. 

“It’s beautiful.” you answered easily, “Like straight out of a movie.”

“Good to hear that.” he smiled at you with a friendly wink. 

Corbyn, standing beside you, explained teasingly, “My dear teammate here makes being from Monaco his entire personality.”

“Okay,” Charles laughed humorlessly at the lighthearted dig, “says the American.”

“Mm,” you scrunched your nose and glanced over at Corbyn, “he’s got you there.”

Gaping at you, Corbyn gestured his hand out helplessly towards Charles, “You just met him five seconds ago and you’re already taking his side?”

“I always side against the Americans, don’t you know that about me by now?” you nudged him playfully. 

Charles cocked his head to the side faintly, asking you, “You’re not American?”

“God, no.” you waved your hand as if to physically remove that assumption from the air between you, “I’m Canadian.”

“Then how did you meet these two?”

Daniel took the answer proudly, “Well, Corbyn’s my best friend so she knows him through me. And she and I met at a mutual friend’s Christmas party two years ago or so now after she moved to LA for work.”

You piped up with a casual correction of your boyfriend’s statement, “We actually met before that at that same friend’s birthday party that summer.”

Daniel replied to you smoothly, “But I don’t remember that so it doesn’t count.”

“Because you were fucking plastered.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You were still a solid flirt though.” you smiled and wrapped your hand around his bicep as you glanced at him lovingly for a moment, “That’s never changed.”

Daniel smiled right back and leaned in to share a fleeting kiss with you. 

Charles, who had been trying to follow your quick bantered dialogue with wide eyes, glanced over at Corbyn who merely shrugged. With a casual clear of his throat, Charles reached up to adjust the white cap on his head and then reached into his room long enough to grab his bag to sling over his shoulder. 

Straightened up, he told you all, “Well, I should go home. I have to rest before the race tomorrow.” 

“Yes! Pole position for you at your home race.” Daniel stated.

Not giving the poor guy a second to properly process Daniel’s sentence first, you added, “Is that why you have a snazzy fit and Corbyn’s is boring red?”

“‘Snazzy fit’?” Charles chuckled half-nervously with another glance towards his teammate but with his amount of experience around other chaotic English speakers by that point in his career, he could extrapolate what you were trying to say, “Ah, yes, the special edition. It was something I was working with Puma and the team. You like it?”

“Yeah, I love it!” you agreed, “Maybe it will bring you luck tomorrow.”

“We will see.” Charles laughed modestly, “I will see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe. But we don’t want to get in your way.” Daniel said, glancing over at Corbyn, “We just follow him around; wherever he tells us to go.”

“Alright.” Charles offered his hand out to share some casual fist bumps with each of you. 

As he turned, Corbyn called out his name and when he looked back, he told him, “Almost forgot: Tabs wanted to see you before you left today. She should be around the paddock. Try McLaren?” 

“Okay, thanks.” Charles sent him a quick thumbs up before continuing his path to the stairs. 

You smiled over at Corbyn, “Well, he was the sweetest.”

Corbyn shrugged with a soft laugh, “Yeah, I might have the best teammate on the grid. Don’t mean to brag but…”

“Only would be better if it was me, right?” Daniel reached around you to give Corbyn’s shoulder a pat.

“No way.” Corbyn scoffed, “You’d drag our team down to last.”

Before Daniel could retaliate with any form of physical banter, Corbyn scurried away with a cheeky grin and you were forced to follow after him towards the stairs for your last stop of your tour. 

The third floor was actually a terrace for the drivers, the team, and any personal guests. The third of the top floor that was indoor was, as expected, a bar and lounge area that continued the same design from the rest of the interior of the motorhome. Corbyn explained how this space was used to sign new drivers and he sat himself down in the same seat he had been sitting at the table when he signed with Ferrari back in late 2018. He then ordered you both drinks at the bar - none for himself since he needed a clear mind until after the race the following day - and then led you outside the large sliding glass doors to the open air of the terrace. 

Outdoor lounge furniture was laid out neatly across the rooftop with a few sun umbrellas here and there. It was generally empty on the terrace which gave the three of you a bit of privacy to talk and enjoy the Monaco sunshine and the city in the distance. You stood at the railing overlooking the paddock, skimming the hustle and bustle going on below with a sea of various coloured uniforms and equipment being moved in all directions. 

Corbyn and Daniel stood just to your left in some conversation that you didn’t think you needed to be actively involved in. Instead, you took your time to people-watch in this world you were unfamiliar with, sipping your fruity cocktail from a red straw with your forearms resting atop the warm railing of the terrace. Directly down below, you saw Charles walking out of the motorhome, probably having been stopped by some team members for a chat on his short journey between the second floor and the exit since parting ways with your little group. As he stepped out onto the pavement, he raised his hand up to someone farther down the paddock and you turned to spy on who he was calling over. 

You spotted Tabitha with ease between her F1 t-shirt and that camera still around her neck but more likely thanks to the impressively tall man walking at her side that helped them to stand out from the crowd. In light wash blue jeans and a snug fitted branded black t-shirt of a team you couldn’t make out from the height you were at, the Monaco breeze ruffled through his neatly styled light brown hair. Although he was wearing black Ray Ban sunglasses, his smile was bright and infectious and as they approached Charles, he reached a hand out to share a fist bump with his friendly rival. 

As Tabitha spoke with Charles about whatever she needed to see him for, the other young man at her side glanced up towards the terrace of the Ferrari motorhome you were atop of as if he could sense your stare. He reached a hand up in a little wave and, although embarrassed at first that you were caught staring, you lifted your hand from where you were resting forward on the railing for a wave back. Tabitha and Charles looked up at you too thanks to their friend’s move and you offered them a little wave too. But the lingering gaze of the mystery addition kept your attention for a moment longer until he, too, was turning back to look at Charles and he slid his hands in his pockets naturally. 

Someone nudging your arm had you startling slightly and you looked over at Corbyn who was on Daniel’s other side from you, “I was just talking to Daniel about what our weekend is looking like - there’s going to be a yacht party out on the water after the race tomorrow. Did you want to join?”

“Yeah, of course.” you straightened up from the railing, “Who’s all going to be there?”

“Probably just most if not all of the drivers and anyone they feel like inviting along too.” Corbyn shrugged, “T will be there so you won’t be the only girl.”

“Oh, thanks.” you scoffed lightheartedly. “Not like I’d need anyone but Daniel to keep me company.”

“That’s right, baby.” he winked at you. 

“I swear, if you guys make half the grid puke overboard from bearing witness to your immense amount of drunken PDA tomorrow night, I will revoke your VIP privileges.” Corbyn teased, although he sounded like he was only half joking.

Briefly changing the topic, you didn’t dare to look in fear of giving yourself away as you asked him, “Who’s that down there?”

Corbyn and Daniel both looked over the railing to the trio below.

“With Tabs and Charles? That’s George Russell. Drives for Mercedes.” Corbyn answered.

“He’s fine as fuck.” you stated. 

“Excuse me?” Daniel gaped at you, all too familiar with your blunt statements but always one to feign offence all the same.

“Not as fine as you, my beautiful sunshine.” you promised with an innocent smile and a touch of your hand to his chest.

“Yeah, you better cover your ass.” he laughed warningly. 

Corbyn snorted at your banter and cocked his head in your direction, “I would assure you that he’s single but you, my dear, are not.”

“Why would I need anyone else when I already have the best?” you slung your arm around Daniel’s shoulders, “Besides, I’m allowed to look at the menu…I just can’t order.”

Your boyfriend kissed the corner of your mouth as his hand slid around your waist proudly and you glanced back down over the railing, only to see George still staring right back up at the two of you from behind the shadow of his sunglasses. 

The next day at daybreak, the paddock was arguably even busier than it had been the afternoon before. At 7:30, teams and drivers were arriving to begin their preparations for race day which began with breakfast in the motorhomes. Being Corbyn’s guests, you and Daniel gladly accompanied him to breakfast despite needing to wake up at an early hour back in his house - he only had to come into the guest room to shake you both awake twice that morning. The drive to the paddock in his luxury BMW sports car was brief given that Monaco was such a small country and the rush of warm morning air helped to liven you from your previous slumber and once you arrived, the team valet took the keys to park it with a wish of luck to Corbyn. 

Donning your VIP Ferrari lanyards again and, of course, matching official Scuderia Ferrari merchandise, you and Daniel walked hand in hand behind Corbyn as he led the way through the turnstiles and then towards the motorhome. Tabitha had to be at the paddock before the drivers so she didn’t accompany you in Corbyn’s car that morning but she and her camera were greeted almost immediately by Corbyn with a little wave and a beaming smile as she stood amongst some of the other media personnel just inside the entrance to the paddock. One to take her work seriously, she didn’t wave back, but you could see her smile bashfully behind her camera and the flutter of the shutter. 

You leaned closer to Daniel to whisper, “I feel famous.”

“You look famous.” Daniel complimented. “Did I ever tell you that you look so fucking good in red?”

“Once or twice.” you turned away from him modestly, leaving him to only give your hand a squeeze so as to keep the PDA to a minimum for the sake of Corbyn’s photo opportunities he was walking through. It was his weekend, after all. 

The three of you sat around a table in the Ferrari dining area and a waitress came over to take your orders. It was all so fancy and impressive - something you didn’t expect from a world of silly race car driving. You and Daniel treated yourselves to pancakes while Corbyn ordered something high protein and sufficient to start his day along with a smoothie packed full of extra nutrition. The nauseating colour of it made Daniel scrunch up his nose at the mere sight and Corbyn just smiled at his best friend over the rim of his glass as he took a hefty sip. 

“Gives me a traumatic reminder of when you made me one and it came out my nose.” Daniel shuttered. 

Corbyn nearly choked on his smoothie and he put it back on the table to cover his mouth with his hand before stumbling out an, “Oh my God, I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t.” Daniel insisted. 

“When was that?” you laughed.

“Uh, few years ago now. How old were we?” Daniel glanced at Corbyn, “Twenty? Twenty-one?”

“It was the year before I signed, I think.” Corbyn thought aloud, “Because I was desperately trying to beef up before that season in F2 and I wanted you to join me in the effort.”

Daniel shook his head slowly, “It was then and there that I realized I will only go so far as to accompany you to the gym but not join you in your insane routines.”

Corbyn reached over to smack Daniel’s arm teasingly, “Just say you’re weak, bro, it’s okay.”

You replied effortlessly as you took a bite of your pancakes, “His stamina makes up for it.”

Daniel sent you a wink from beside you and Corbyn snorted and reached for his smoothie again with a tisk, “Disgusting.”

After breakfast, around 9:00, the drivers were set to begin their usual race day routines which started with their strategy meetings with their teams. Since that was strictly confidential, you and Daniel had to say goodbye to Corbyn there and most likely wouldn’t see him again until after the race. Besides, the Paddock Club and its free drinks and entertainment were calling your names. So, Daniel and Corbyn shared a quick hug and Daniel offered him some words of encouragement that had often been delivered over text message for most of the races prior. You gave him a hug too and wished him luck - insisting that he didn’t need it - to which he thanked you honestly. Then, you were parting ways. 

Back outside in the familiar bustle of the paddock, you and Daniel stepped onto the pavement and let your hands fall into each other’s like second nature. With the area being so crowded, you moved slowly to navigate your way through the photographers without getting in their way and the team members who had vitally important places to be. A few incoming drivers breezed past you - some with their game faces already on - either in their own casual outfits or their branded team clothing. Your gaze followed one of them right past you as he was trailed by photographers with their cameras and a few volunteers thrusting Sharpies and various Red Bull merchandise at him for a signature and in your momentary distraction, you trusted Daniel to guide you through the crowd.

Daniel suddenly yanking on your hand had you whipping back around and stumbling to the side just in time to narrowly avoid a guy on an electric scooter screeching to a halt mere millimeters beside you. His startled expression was revealed under an orange cap that barely tamed his curly brown hair. 

“My bad. You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry.” you assured him quickly. 

Daniel tisked at you, gesturing with his hand that wasn’t in yours towards the young man and his team uniform he wore, “He’s wearing neon orange, how do you not see him coming?”

The guy’s expression furrowed for a moment as if he were completely taken aback and, with one foot on the pavement to stabilize himself and his scooter, he pointed to his chest and the vibrant orange McLaren polo he was wearing under a branded black vest, correcting Daniel seriously, “Uhm, it’s papaya.”

You giggled softly, licking away your smile at his slight offence. 

Then, his eyes flicked down to what you both were wearing and he nodded towards your lanyards, “Ferrari guests, huh?”

“Yeah.” You thrust out your hand towards him and introduced yourself and your boyfriend by name briefly. 

He took your handshake with a smile that scrunched his eyes closed in the outer corners, introducing himself in return, “Lando Norris. Driver for McLaren - also known loudly and proudly as team papaya.”

“Full introduction. You think we didn’t know you or something?” you questioned. 

He cocked his head to the side, pulling his lips in a disbelieving line, “Mm, not really. That blinding red was a bit of a giveaway. Think you need an upgrade to team papaya, mate.”

Always on hot alert to anyone to dare question his best friend, even in joking passing, Daniel replied, “And why’s that?”

Lando shrugged coolly, “Everyone knows we’re the best around here.”

His statement had you suddenly remembering the Constructors Championship standings updates and history that Corbyn had shared with you over breakfast that morning and you were quick on the rebuttal, “But didn’t you finish fourth last year? And that was - if I remember correctly - after Ferrari?”

“Oh, lookey here!” Lando laughed, “I underestimated you.”

Daniel grinned and let go of your hand in exchange for his arm to wrap around your shoulders, “That’s my girl.”

“Well, don’t worry. This year’s numbers will turn out differently, I’m sure.” he leaned forward on the handlebars of his scooter, “So, I’m assuming you’re Corbyn’s guests since you’re too English to be friends of Charles’.”

“Yeah,” Daniel answered, “He’s my best friend.”

“How sweet. I think I definitely remember him talking about you.” Lando leaned in towards you both a little to say quietly, “He’s told us all your secrets.”

Daniel’s eyes must have widened in momentary surprise because then Lando was laughing and swatting his hand through the air playfully. 

“Nah, I’m just pulling your leg. Corbyn’s a great secret keeper. Although, I’d argue not as good as that girlfriend of his; she knows far too much about me and has somehow still kept it all under wraps.”

Daniel chuckled, “Okay, I’ll know to hassle her about getting some dirt on you next time I see her.”

“Good luck.” Lando said pointedly. “She is a vault.”

“Makes for a great friend then.” you said. 

“That is true.” Lando set his foot back on his scooter, “You guys enjoy the race. If you change your mind, we have lots of extra papaya shirts next door if you feel like cheering for the right team. But for now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already fashionably late to my strategy meeting.”

“Oh, we didn’t tell you?” you furrowed your eyebrows in his direction, “We were sent by Ferrari specifically to hold you up to sabotage said strategy.”

“Nice try.” Lando snorted, “I’ll have to hear you say that again when I’m on top of the podium later today.” 

Then, he pushed off the ground with his other foot to zoom off again, calling over his shoulder, 

“See you around!”

With his arm still around your shoulders, Daniel guided you towards the nearby exit of the paddock, both of you in lingering content smiles from that lighthearted interaction with a friendly stranger. Your boyfriend complimented you in passing on your wit and you slid your hand in the back pocket of his jeans with some reply about always trying to impress him. This wasn’t your part of the universe amongst the drivers and the cars, but when you were together, it certainly felt like it was you against the world. 

Since it was only 9:00, you and Daniel took that time to explore some more of Monaco together and you walked the streets and found a few stores to poke into before your afternoon plans would begin. Most of the city felt as though it were closed off for the race so the traffic - both vehicular and pedestrian - felt much more than what would normally have been found in Monte Carlo. You took two hours to yourselves to shop and explore and take a few photos where you could before stopping at Corbyn’s house with Daniel’s spare key to drop off your bags so you didn’t have to lug them with you back to the track. 

The Paddock Club welcomed you back in time for lunch and you and Daniel shared a table for two overlooking both the crystal blue water of the Monaco harbour as well as the race circuit carved out of the streets below. Your meal was prepared by Michelin star chefs and you and Daniel clinked your glasses of summery alcohol together in a content ‘cheers’ to your lovely weekend and sharing a ‘good luck’ to Corbyn and Charles on top of that. 

A live band played across the terrace and the upbeat yet calming music was carried by the midday ocean breeze and the large screen set up on the opposite side of the rooftop was playing the recap from Saturday’s qualifying in preparation for the race ahead. Of course, Daniel’s attention was almost glued to the screen for any sort of spot of Corbyn’s impressive session, his only hint that he was aware he was there with you was the fact that his hand was resting in yours from across the table. You, instead, were focused all on him in the sunshine and the toe of your shoe gently rubbed up and down the bottom of his shin just under his pant leg, completely enamoured by merely the sight of him. 

“It’s so cute how you’re so proud of Corbyn.” you spoke aloud.

Daniel tore his eyes away from the screen across the terrace to look at you with a soft smile, “He’s my brother and he’s in front of the world, doing what he loves. There’s nothing cooler.”

“Thank you for sharing this weekend with me.” you whispered as you raised his hand up from the table to kiss his knuckles and then you rested your cheek down against them. 

Daniel’s gaze furrowed slightly in confusion, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, it could have been your guys’ weekend with Corbyn.”

“He’s too busy most of the time and I would have been super bored.” Daniel shrugged, “Besides, you and I always have fun together and I’m sure there’s lots more to come the next few days.”

You licked away your smile as you stared at him, “Yeah.”

Daniel gently moved his thumb from your grasp to caress your cheek softly, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” you whispered.

Then, he was leaning over the table to kiss your lips and you smiled against his mouth and cupped his face in your hands to keep him there for a moment longer. When he sat back down, he habitually pulled out his phone to check the time before gasping at the numbers staring back at him and he turned the screen to show you.

“12:27. We have to hurry to make the track tour.” he reminded you. 

Just outside of the Paddock Club was where the track tour was picking up the VIPs. The flatbed truck was already awaiting the guests and a few were already loaded on and waiting for the tour to start in mere moments. You and Daniel showed your passes to the employees and you were permitted on board along with them. 

The elite track tour was simply what the name implied: a tour around the Monaco circuit. Although the tour took the same path that the drivers would later that day, the truck that carried the guests was going much, much slower. You made some whispered joke to Daniel that you could walk faster than this thing. As you journey, facts and history of the circuit and Monaco Grand Prix’s of the past were given by a prominent figure in the Formula 1 world who could also speak to the best strategies that are key for that specific track. You hoped there wouldn’t be a quiz on who that individual was because you swore you had never heard his name in your life, but you still politely applauded his introduction along with the rest of the guests. 

One lap around the track took almost an entire half hour and the truck returned you to the Paddock Club entrance where you had begun your tour. It appeared much busier in that area when you approached than when you left as if the usual bustle from the paddock had overspilled onto the edge of the track and the long red F1 branded carpet that was laid out over the pavement. You recognized a few of the drivers standing around together, chatting, between flutters of media personnel who were snapping pictures and a film crew that was weaving between small groups in preparation for the driver’s parade that was about to begin immediately following your tour. 

The VIP guests were guided off the truck and ushered back towards the Paddock Club as if to prevent them from getting too distracted by any possible cases of star-struck. A few of the drivers were still struggling out from the paddock and as they were waiting, some were off to the side signing autographs for the fans thrusting pictures and merchandise through the fence - Charles among them - and he had an obvious grin across his face as he scribbled his signature for the enthusiastic fans of his homeland. 

“Daniel!” 

Someone calling his name had your boyfriend turning his attention from the crowds of fans through the fence to scan the smaller groups of drivers scattered about. As expected, Corbyn already had his hand up and a grin on his face, the other four drivers with him already staring in your direction as he called you over. As you approached, Daniel’s hand in yours as it had been for most of the weekend, you recognized the Red Bull driver from that morning who had distracted you enough to almost get hit by Lando’s scooter as well as Lando himself standing between him and Corbyn. The third person in their circle was George - the young man you had been eyeing from the top of the Ferrari motorhome the previous day - and he still wore those sunglasses, preventing you from getting a good look at him. 

Although you could tell he was tall from your bird's eye view from the top of the motorhome, it surprised you that you actually had to look up at him a little when you took your place beside him in the group. You, Daniel, and he seemed to stand at least a few centimetres above the rest of the circle although you were sure the newly acquainted were surprised by your height. 

“Aw, look,” Lando greeted as you approached, “it’s my new best friends.”

“You’ve met?” Corbyn glanced between you. 

“This morning after breakfast when he tried to run me over.” you answered coolly. 

The group chuckled faintly and the young man in the Red Bull uniform added, “Sounds believable.” 

Lando pointed at him accusingly, “Hey, it was your fault she wasn’t paying attention.”

The stranger pressed his finger against his own chest in wide-eyed disbelief, “My fault?” 

“Anyway,” Corbyn waved his hand to end the brief bickering before offering quick introductions of you and Daniel and then his circle, “You clearly know Lando already, that’s George, and this is Max.”

Hellos were shared and then George was turning to you, asking you both in the smoothest British accent you’d ever heard, “How have you been enjoying your experience so far?”

“Oh, it’s been amazing.” you answered honestly, half thankful for his sunglasses because you were sure his eyes would be as nice as the rest of him and completely distract you from your train of thought, “I was worried I’d stick out like a sore thumb around here but I think I’ve been catching on to what's going on enough to blend in at least somewhat.” 

“Yeah, she threw some Ferrari statistics in my face this morning.” Lando shook his head, “Sounded just like our team.” 

You held your hand to your heart in his direction, “So kind of you to say.” 

“How’s your Mercedes knowledge?” George pressed cheekily. 

“Weak.” you answered before explaining with a haphazard gesture across the small circle to Corbyn, “Our tour guide is a little biased.” 

“Such a shame.” George shook his head in mock dismay. 

Daniel shrugged, “I wouldn’t change him.”

“Hey, thanks, man.” Corbyn grinned at his best friend. 

Lando made a heart with his hands, “Aw, bromance.”

Drawn back into a conversation with George, you added to your initial statement, “I think the only Mercedes knowledge I have is that you’re starting P2 today.”

“Very good.” he praised with a toothy grin.

Of course his teeth were perfectly straight and blindingly white and your hand tightened on Daniel’s at the way this stranger’s praise made your heart soar proudly. 

Max then raised his hand slightly, expressing in a surprisingly serious tone, “I’m still wanting to know why I am at fault for Lando’s attempted murder.” 

Despite Lando’s half-amused scoff, you replied briefly, “I was distracted by the impressive crowd of ducklings following after you through the paddock this morning.” 

“And because of that, she wasn’t looking where she was going.” Daniel finished. 

Max laughed lightly and nodded in understanding. 

George piped up half jokingly, directing his explanation to you and Daniel, “You become world champion and suddenly people can’t get enough of you.” 

You looked over at him on your direct left, sharing in his warm knowing smile for a brief moment as you desperately tried to ignore the invasive thought to just reach up and rip his sunglasses off his face. His skin just looked ridiculously soft and his fluffy brown hair that was ruffled by the seaside breeze was enticing to your fingers and you wanted a proper look at this man. Despite your itching curiosity, you were more than thankful for Daniel’s hand in yours to act as some sort of grounding in reality while he was too busy chatting with the other three. Why wasn’t George looking away from you? Why weren’t you taking the initiative to look away yourself? 

It felt like ages that you were standing there in silence but it was truly no more than a few seconds before one of the F1 organizers was calling the drivers to load onto the flatbed truck for the parade, tearing you from your momentary distraction. The rest of the little circle shared brief fist bumps and goodbyes and they made their way to the truck a few paces away. George lingered back for a moment as he was at the back of their small group and he, too, shared fleeting fist bumps with the both of you. 

“Are you coming to the yacht party tonight?” you asked him casually.

“Yeah, I think so.” he kept slowly walking in the direction of the truck but his body kept turning towards you both as if he didn’t quite want to leave too quickly, “Are you?”

“Definitely. We’ll see you there then.” 

His lips perked up at the corner in a half smile, taking a step backwards, “Looking forward to it.” 

“Good luck this afternoon.” you called after him. 

“Thanks, love.” he replied smoothly and you could have sworn that if he wasn’t wearing those damn sunglasses, you would have seen him wink. 

Entirely startled, you stood in near shock as he turned his back to you and hurried to join the rest of the guys on the flatbed truck, the snug black fabric of his long sleeve Mercedes shirt hugging him perfectly under the afternoon sun. You turned your head slowly to look at your boyfriend as if to see if he had heard that too, only to find him already looking at you with a peaked brow. 

“Close your mouth.” Daniel laughed, using his hand that wasn’t in yours to physically nudge your chin up himself. 

“Oh my God.” you glanced back towards the lineup of drivers on the flatbed truck, “Who is that man?”

“Do you want me to tie your hair back for you or what?” Daniel gave you a little shove.

“Huh?” you tore your eyes away from your obvious staring - that was definitely caught in the background of some photos - to look at your boyfriend beside you again. 

“You were flirting it up with that guy.” he tisked, although his tone was entirely amused and his cocky smirk was proof enough of that, “Right in front of me!”

“Not like I’d do it behind your back.” you shrugged, glancing back towards the truck. 

Daniel tugged at your hand to bring your attention back to him, standing together in the middle of the red carpet, surrounded by media crew and professionals, as he asked quietly, “Think you want to ask him to join us tonight?”

“I mean, I’m thinking about it. I just dunno if I want to lay claim on him yet; he has so much going for him already that there has to be something wrong with the guy to balance it out.”

“Okay,” Daniel chuckled, “Your call, baby. Just let me know.”

You returned to the terrace of the Paddock Club to watch the Driver’s Parade on the big screen and share some snacks and drinks, and as you did, you were analyzing every word that George was saying to the interviewer, trying to see who he was under those preposterous sunglasses. Now it was Daniel’s time to admire you as you were focused on the screen, standing beside you at the bar table with his right arm leaning against the table top and his attention all on you. He had a faint smile on his face, eyes drifting between your habitually bitten lip and your unwavering attention given to the screen in front of you. 

Just before 2:00, once the driver’s parade was over, Tabitha met you on the terrace to show you where you would be watching the race. Corbyn spared nothing when it came to making sure you and his best friend had the best treatment. Tabitha had been one of the photographers on the driver’s parade so, as usual, she still had her camera around her neck and her pass clipped to the belt loop on her jeans when she approached you. 

“You’re busier than the actual drivers!” Daniel joked as she stopped at your table. 

“We haven't seen you almost all weekend!” you finished. 

“Yeah,” she sighed with a faint smile, “but I wouldn’t change it for a second. I love what I do.”

“Got any good shots?” you asked casually. 

“Think so. But you won’t get to see them until later.” she set her hand protectively over her camera, “We also need to hurry because I need to find a good spot on the track to shoot the race. Ready?”

You and Daniel took one last sips of your drinks before following after her towards the stairs and down onto street level. The drivers were gone and the track was cleared and the red carpet was rolled up and put away and Tabitha led you across the pavement and towards the nearby entrance to the pit lane. She walked quickly despite her shorter stature, as if she always had to prove her standing in a career dominated by men, and you and Daniel found yourselves almost having to jog to keep up. 

Daniel broke the temporary silence among you with a joking, “So what dirt do you have on Lando?”

“Nothing.” she replied plainly. 

“He said you know all his secrets.”

“I do.”

“And?”

Tabitha stopped and turned to him, so suddenly that you almost crashed right into her, and she assured him plainly, “You’re utterly stupid if you think I’m going to tell anyone his secrets - especially someone I just met yesterday.” 

Daniel, eyes wide, startled, merely nodded. You licked away your amused smile as she turned back around and continued walking. 

Daniel looked over at you long enough to whisper, “She’s scary.” 

You picked up the pace to keep up with her and you replied to your boyfriend coolly as he walked in step with you, “Your fault for trying so hard to be funny that you landed in ‘stupid’.”

“Just shut up and hold my hand.” Daniel grumbled and snatched your hand in his. 

The pit lane was organized chaos with each of the ten garages filled with mechanics and engineers and team members all working around the impressively sparkling race cars and adjacent computer systems. You followed Tabitha down the centre of the lane to avoid getting in the way of the final work being done before the race was set to begin and the third garage from the entrance of the pit lane was Ferrari’s. Along the top of the open two Ferrari garages was a bold red stripe donning Corbyn’s name, number, home flag, and headshot over one as well as the same information for Charles over the other. Entering through Corbyn’s side of the garage, Tabitha kept close to the wall as the mechanics worked on the final touches to fiery red car donning ‘25’, and you and Daniel walked single file behind her, still managing to hold hands regardless, in fear of getting separated and lost amongst the chaos. 

Walking between the towers of stacked tires, she then led you up a straight flight of metal stairs to the second floor of the garage and then right away turned up another straight flight to the third floor. 

You tried to take in as much as you could of the areas which normally would be off limits while also keeping up with your guide. You managed to peek around the corner on the second floor to get a glimpse of the engineer’s room and the pit wall that was race ready and overlooking the pit lane and the grandstands that were filling with fans. Corbyn and Charles would be somewhere in the area taking part in whatever pre-race warm up routines they conducted for themselves - as were the other drivers in their team’s section - but you dared not to interrupt them, wherever they were. 

The third floor was the hospitality area for Ferrari’s VIPS, lined with red and black striped walls dividing up the space cozily while also donning the once blank garage in applicable branding. You emerged from the top of the stairs towards the floor to ceiling windows that were angled downwards just enough to overlook the pit lane below and opposite grandstands and Tabitha showed you where the washrooms were just to the right before turning left into the modest lounge area. A handful of other guests were already there and ordering drinks with the bartender at the bar along the back wall. Outside the sliding glass doors was a curved patio that was just wide enough to fit a few chairs in a row and when you leaned over the railing, you could look directly down at the spot where the Ferrari cars would pull up for their pitstop mid race. 

“You okay here then?” Tabitha asked from the doorway as you and Daniel took a moment to admire your new location and view of the Monaco harbour and the mountainous city of Monte Carlo in the near distance.

You turned around to face her, “You don’t wanna hang with us for a bit?”

“I don’t really like hanging around Ferrari areas.” she admitted softly, “These guys are not my biggest fans since they found out about Corbyn and me.”

You frowned, “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” she scoffed before smoothly changing the subject, “So, do you need anything else?”

Daniel shook his head, “No, I think we’re okay. Thanks.” 

“Here,” Tabitha stepped forward and held out her hand to you, “let me give you my number in case you need something. I won’t be able to leave my spot during the race but I can try to answer if it’s important.”

You took your phone from your purse, unlocked it, and then handed it to her as you said, “That’s amazing. You’re amazing. Thank you so much.”

With Tabitha’s phone number in your contacts, you said your goodbyes and she hurried off as fast as she had led you there. Standing at the railing, you watched her emerge from the garage below and continue down the pitlane to make it to the starting line before the opening ceremonies would begin. 

You and Daniel helped yourselves to the open bar and returned to the balcony for your impressive view, trying to get a glimpse of anything interesting going on beneath you. But, not long later, the cars were emerging from the garages one at a time, breaking through the air with testing rumbles of their engines as they made their way towards the track. It was only a matter of time now. 

The drivers did one reconnaissance lap around the circuit to test the track conditions and the quality of their car before each stopping in their assigned grid slot given from the results of qualifying the previous day. Their mechanics had met them there and the section of track around the starting line was packed full of people in various coloured uniforms, circling each car like bees to a flower. You and Daniel stood inside the lounge to watch the happenings on the large screen tv that was hung on the wall, admiring the flurry of red around the matching cars in P1 and P4 and trying to spot either of the two Ferrari drivers. Of course, you didn’t bring attention to the fact that you were also trying to get a glimpse of the driver who took up P2 beside Charles, squinting your eyes to see anything amongst the bustle of mechanics in black and teal. 

At quarter to three, the Prince’s Orchestra lined up ahead of the starting line and the drivers were arranged together in two rows a step behind the Prince and Princess of Monaco. Charles, since it was his home race, had the opportunity to even stand ahead of the royal family, donning his custom white and red race suit and designer sunglasses; in all honesty looking more like the Prince of Monaco than the real one who stood behind him. 

The band began to play the national anthem and Charles stood tall and proud at the head of the group. The camera panned over the lineup of drivers who were all standing with their game faces on - except Corbyn who spotted the camera near him and to which he gave a little wink. Daniel let out a little scoff at his best friend’s antics. You tried not to do the same but because of the fact that George, two spots down from Corbyn, was still wearing those damn sunglasses. 

Then finally, once the track was cleared and the mechanics had removed their equipment away from the cars, it was mere minutes until the race would begin at the top of the hour. 

As the drivers prepared in the last few moments, one of the Ferrari team members brought over headsets and radios for each of you in the hospitality suite and introduced how they worked and how to switch between the two channels, giving you a chance to eavesdrop on the discussions between the drivers and their engineers. Of course, Daniel switched his to Corbyn’s channel right away - as did you - and you headed back onto the balcony to claim your seats. Although, once the five red lights shut off and the deafening roar of twenty engines and the screech of tires against pavement could be heard across Monaco, you were drawn to your feet and right to the railing. 

Although you could listen in on the radio conversation and see the best clips of the race on the TVs that lined both the hospitality suite and projections for the grandstands outside, nothing beat the real-life vision of red turning that corner right in front of you, just across the pit lane, whizzing in front of the packed grandstands to the excitement of the crowd as Charles stayed firm at the lead of his rivals. But right behind was that sleek black Mercedes that threatened him by only a few shrinking seconds, the driver of mystery still ultimately hidden from your curious view. You sipped your drink, eyes following the two leaders closely as the rest of the group trailed behind them. 

Max and Corbyn were ridiculously close together at your first sight of them. Corbyn was desperate to try and take over into third but Max was strongly holding his own, especially with the rest of the drivers clogged up behind them and nipping at their heels. The first three laps or so were that mess of chaos where the cars were a colony of colourful ants and it had you covering your eyes for half of it, claiming that the sight of them all slowing down to a crawl and bumping into each other around the corners gave you too much of an ick to watch. Maybe you needed a drink. 

You lingered at the bar as the bartender mixed your cocktail and you listened to Corbyn’s crackling radio discussion with his engineer through your headset, complaining about Max constantly cutting him off and trying to nudge him off the track every time he tried to get past. He had reiterated to you and Daniel multiple times that this circuit was nearly impossible to overtake your opponents so you applauded his dedication to the cause. Glancing up at the TV on the wall, you wondered where Tabitha had placed herself around the track to get those best shots of the race. Part of you wanted to message her to ask but you knew better than to interrupt her. 

By the time you returned to the balcony to your rightful spot beside Daniel, there seemed to be a bit more space between the cars to allow for some breathing room. Not that they liked that, so you figured. Charles was still keeping his spot in P1 and starting to really put more of a distance between him and George. That only meant that Max - previous multiple World Champion - was gaining on him with his hungry eyes on that slipping P2. Although you were there to support Corbyn, you couldn’t help but silently hope that Charles and George could both hold their own - especially given that it was Charles’ home race. 

About a third of the way through the race with not much overtaking but certainly a good amount of collisions for the bulk of the drivers, Corbyn was still sitting in P4 and discussing coming in for a tire change and you and Daniel listened to his impressively professional explanation of how the car was feeling through every turn and on every straight to his engineer. Lando was gaining on him but he had a few seconds worth of gap between them so Corbyn decided to take the opportunity. At the confirmation call of ‘box, box’ through the radio from the engineer to alert the pit crew, Daniel nearly threw himself over the railing to peer down the pit lane in anticipation of Corbyn’s entrance. 

The red 25 glided effortlessly into the pit lane and right into the painted lines that were framed by matching red-clad mechanics, only taking a fraction of a second to change the tires and send him on his way, barely enough time for Daniel - a few drinks deep by that point in the day - to shout enthusiastically down towards his best friend who certainly couldn’t hear him. Taking off again, Corbyn had to stick to the speed limit in the pit lane but he pushed it the most he could without breaking the rules, desperate to not give up his spot to Lando. And when he pulled out of the pit lane, the McLaren was neck and neck with him.

As if spotting each other at the same time, they both pressed onwards to try and overtake the other. Close friends off the track, friendship was a mute point during a race, and the two of them threatened to push the other into the barriers if they got too close through the first turn out of the pit lane. The Monaco streets weren’t welcoming to two cars at the same time and the faint grazing of Lando’s orange paint against the edge had him nudging back against Corbyn’s left side to try and get back in the centre as they made their way up the straight side by side. 

Although you had the headset on that gave you full access to Corbyn’s radio, the TV playing just inside the suite had the full live broadcast, meaning you could hear Lando’s frustration to his own engineer loud and clear,

“What is this idiot doing?”

Daniel, as if he was being asked the rhetorical question personally, answered without tearing his eyes away from the big screen battle across the track, “Winning.”

And through your headset came a just as agitated Corbyn, “Can this guy get out of the fucking way?! No one knows how to leave space!”

“He’s pushing me off!” Lando argued from the TV. 

And as Corbyn managed to pull ahead going into the next turn and regain his spot in P4, the less than polite name Lando shouted at the Ferrari driver was bleeped by the broadcast. You and Daniel shared a high five as some of the other guests in the suite cheered at the Ferrari success. 

But up at the front of the line up, Charles was breezing on through the streets that shouted his name; people lined up across balconies with flags and banners and packed along the mountainside until every space between the green of trees was taken up by people in glorious red. He was riding on the high of having his hometown behind him, letting the cheers from his crowd glide him around the sharp corners and sizzling pavement that he knew like the back of his hand. He felt invincible. 

George was certainly not an issue for Charles as he was starting to struggle on his tires. He was in desperate need to change them but with Max breathing down his neck, it was hard to give it up. If nothing else, for Charles, George’s ability to keep Max from squeezing by him along those narrow streets was a blessing in disguise. Finally, the top three had no choice but to come into the pits to change their incredibly worn tires and it seemed as though each of their engineers had them stack up together to prevent someone behind them taking their place. 

You and Daniel watched over the railing as Charles, George, and Max came gliding into the pit lane at the same time and slipped between their markers framed by their assigned mechanics, the Ferrari garage nestled right between the ones of Mercedes and Red Bull. It was a matter of seconds to see who would finish their tire change first and it felt as though everyone on your balcony was holding their breath. There was no fraction of a second that could have been spared in a moment like this. 

Ferrari seemed to be on the ball that day - sometimes a rarity - and Charles whizzed away from the garage in an impressive 2.2 seconds with Max pulling up behind him at 2.5 seconds. That only meant that when George pulled out of his pit stop after a painful 3.5 seconds, he was now in third. His displeased comments through the radio broadcast was obvious with his overly dramatic “nooo” quickly followed by a bleeped profanity, although you couldn’t bite back your smile at his silly little accent as he finishing his displeasure with an exasperated, “oh my goodness.”

Charles managed to hold off Max for the following laps although there were too many close calls for comfort that had you physically turning away from the screens with your hands over your eyes. For someone who hadn’t a single clue about anything to do with Formula 1 before the trip, it was certainly easy for you to get into it and your dramatic reactions had Daniel laughing at your obvious change of opinion about the sport. It didn’t take a pro-racer to know that Charles deserved to win his home race more than anything, although maybe it was your inexperience that claimed that Max should share the glory of constant wins. It wasn’t that easy, so you were told. 

The last lap had you holding your breath, eyes glued to the grandstand’s screen across the way, watching Charles lean into every curve just enough to keep Max a half pace behind him. And when they came zooming around the corner and along the track in front of you, your entire balcony was screaming his name, drowned out by the sound of the engines and the heartbeat of Monaco behind him. 

Eyes glued to the screens for the last curve of the race, the entire country was holding its breath. The Ferrari team emptied from the garage and rushed to the track-side, climbing up on the fences and trees and cheering on the racing red as he sped down the final straight of the race. Max was fire on Charles’ heels, only giving him that spark to push him harder, faster, flying past the checkered flag as the voice of the commentator rang out across the country, 

“And he brings it home! Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix!”

You swore your ears rang with the cheers of the public and the bursts of fireworks over the circuit and the Ferrari garage nearly vibrated with the celebration that immediately ensued. The shouts from the floor below you at the pit wall brought a smile to your face over a team you hardly knew, hardly cared about, and yet you threw yourself into Daniel’s arms in a celebratory hug and he lifted you right off the ground with a beaming grin of his own. Charles’ shouts of joy over his radio broadcast crackled and broke from how loud, full of pure passion and overwhelming emotion from that long awaited, long dreamed about win.

It was a close finish with Max achieving P2 by only a few tenths of a second behind Charles while George managed to keep his P3 with only a few seconds of a gap. Corbyn kept his fourth place finish but through your headset still synced with his channel, you heard him hurriedly ask his engineer where Charles placed before even celebrating his own points scored. 

“Charles placed P1 today.”

With a whoop of his own, Corbyn shouted his own adrenaline fused celebration for his teammate, “Yes! That’s my boy!”

The Ferrari employees in the hospitality suite had you return your headsets before they led you all to the opposite side of the building and a terrace balcony, packed like sardines among guests of the other teams to oversee the lively festivities and the end of the race as the remainder of the grid crossed the finish line. You peered down upon team members and mechanics all donning red uniforms, desperate for that first look of your glorious winner, held back only by metal fences. With one final lap completed as the rest of the grid finished their race, the podium finishers finally pulled their cars up to their markers at 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place, respectfully, and Charles took a second as if to compose himself, holding his gloved hands to the front of his helmet in near disbelief. The moment he lifted himself out of his car and stood atop it to greet his hometown crowds, the sound was almost deafening as the balconies and hills were filled with people cheering for him behind the bursts of fireworks, banners with his name fluttering from railings and rooftops. Charles, standing on top of his car still in his helmet, looked up to the sky for a moment and held his hand to his chest, basking in the moment, before he threw his proud fist in the air and jumped onto the pavement and stumbled right over to his team. 

As Charles threw himself over the metal fence into the welcoming arms of his team, it nearly brought a tear to your eye at the emotion of it all - and you hadn’t even been around to see his struggles or his hard work throughout his career and the years that led up to it. Your attention was so focused on Charles’ moment that you almost forgot the other podium important winner of the evening as George had emerged from his car behind the 3rd place marker, greeted his team, and finally removed his helmet and passed it over to one of the Mercedes team members there to assist him before tugging off his balaclava to reveal his messy head of light brown hair and earned you your first glimpse of his face. You might not have known much at all about Formula 1 but in that moment it was safe to say you were suddenly quite starstruck.

His hand raked through his matted waves to push his sweaty hair out of his face, revealing the full effect of his handsome existence. His cheeks were flushed the softest pink from the race and his skin was glistening in sweat under the bright lights that lined the track under the early evening sun and his precise jawline flexed with the lick of his lips as he arranged himself out of his racing accessories. What his sunglasses had previously hid during the weekend were the biggest, most angelic aquamarine eyes you had ever seen - aside from Daniel’s brilliant blues - and you swore that they literally sparkled like you were in a scene in a Disney movie, batted behind long, thick eyelashes that would make makeup companies envious. He was a vision. 

“Holy shit,” you exhaled, completely unable to tear your gaze away from the handsome stranger as you settled into confirmation rather than your hesitation from earlier that afternoon, “there’s nothing wrong with him.” 

Daniel, who was pressed up so close to you in the packed crowd right up against the railing of the balcony with his arm tight around your waist, had already anticipated said confirmation - he knew you too well after all - and he merely smirked at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek. But it was far too busy and far too noisy to even attempt any conversation there and then so he didn’t speak to it, wanting to linger in the moment of celebration that filled the air for the time being. You had all night, after all. 

A few official media personnel were right there to quickly interview the top three, beginning with George in P3. You had a perfect line of sight down over the dense crowd to right where he was standing with the interviewer and the modest film crew and the way he spoke into the microphone projected his voice across what felt like the whole city of Monte Carlo. He spoke so eloquently and contently, that wide smile ever present on his face as he reviewed his performance with grace with the interviewer. You clung onto Daniel’s waist a little tighter without realizing, in some sort of trance as you admired the handsome stranger that you were desperate to lay claim upon. Only time would tell. 

Although the rest of the grid was back at the pit lane after the race and were there to be weighed and rested for a moment, the podium winners had their post-race processes done in the podium building just outside the track limits while the preparations behind the scene for the podium ceremony were hurried to be set up. With Max and Charles having completed their interviews, the three of them walked together into the building and out of sight, but you managed to catch George’s congratulatory pat to Charles’ back as they disappeared from view. 

As you waited for the podium celebration to begin, you took that moment to scan the crowd below and the huddle of photographers and film crew on the terrace a storey or two beneath you, locating Tabitha at the front of them all. She was half squashed by the crowd of grown men with their noisy cameras, but she held her front and centre spot steadfast, her prized camera held securely in hand and ready to go the moment the ceremony would begin. Daniel’s hand didn’t stray from your waist the entire time you waited, holding you close, and between his touch and the anticipation for your exciting plans for later, you were antsy to get out of the crowd and get the night started. 

Finally, with the Prince’s Orchestra back in formation on the track below and the Royal Family lined up along the second level of the podium above, the ceremony could commence. The commentator announced George first as P3 and he came out smiling and waving to the crowd in a black Pirelli cap over his messy hair, embroidered with his third place title along the side. You may have applauded a little louder than most in your area but Daniel just held you tighter, like you were his winning trophy. Then, Max was announced for P2 in his own matching embroidered hat and he came out with a few modest waves as he made his way to his tier of the podium. When Charles was announced as the race winner, the city went into uproar. From the large screens projecting the ceremony, you could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as he played it off with a beaming, honest smile and two handed waves to his homeland. 

The three of them removed their hats for the national anthem of Monaco to be played by the orchestra and Charles, hands behind his back, held his chin up with a faint smile on his face and his gaze focused upwards as if he were lost in a thought or a memory of his own. After the national anthem, the Royal Family presented the trophies with the first one to Charles, then Max, and then George and photos were taken of the winners together. Once the trophies were set safely to the side, they each reached down to grab their large bottles of champagne they were provided with to pop and spray in celebration, always liking to make a ridiculous mess out of each other in good natured celebratory fun. Max and George seemed to gang up on Charles who ended up turning away with his shoulders to his ears in a beaming grin, trying to escape their bombardment the best he could. But the three of them were plenty soaked by the end of the ceremony and they gathered their trophies and the empty bottles and waved their last goodbyes to the crowd before retiring back inside the building. 

Daniel leaned in close to you so you could hear him over the noise of the crowd, “Ready to go?”

You blindly searched for his hand without tearing your eyes away from the shadow of George just inside the glass walls of the podium building, “Yeah.”

Your boyfriend pulled you through the crowd that still hung around the balcony to linger on the excitement of the celebration but you had places to be and people to meet. You followed the same stairs back down to street level that Tabitha had led you up earlier that afternoon and in a bit of a tipsy haze, you burst out into the pit lane in giggles, buzzing from a successful race. Most of the cars were back in the garages by then and the mechanics were back at work and not paying you any mind as the two of you hurried down the empty pit lane hand in hand. 

“Race you.” Daniel threatened, not even waiting for your response before he was ripping his hand out of yours and taking off towards the paddock at some attempt of a run. 

“Daniel!” you gasped, your voice nearly echoing across the stark emptiness of the once lively track and you ran after him as fast as you could.

Life felt so freeing in that moment, wearing your matching Ferrari shirts donning Corbyn’s number and running over famous Grand Prix streets like you were the drivers of your own destiny, you stretched your arms out wide and let the fresh harbour breeze whizz past you. Your laugh was taken to the ocean, your joy heard and cherished by your boyfriend who suddenly slowed down as he approached the pit lane entrance and he turned around to face you, chest heaving, as he walked backwards for a few steps. You slowed down as you approached him and he held his hands out to you to catch you, sharing in your breathless laughter and wide grin and you leaned in to steal a greedy kiss from his soft lips. 

“I love you so much.” you beamed, throwing your arms around his shoulders even as you both walked slowly in step with each other. 

“I love you more.” Daniel gave your bum a pat, “Want a piggyback?”

“Yes.” 

You let him out of your embrace so he could turn around and crouch down a bit, just enough for you to hold onto his shoulders and jump onto his back. He grasped your shins and pulled your legs around his waist, hopping in place to hike you up a little higher before he was continuing on your journey towards the paddock. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head against his, letting him carry you across the streets of Monaco to the nearby paddock.

Although the race was over and the grandstands were emptying and the public was going home, the behind the scenes world was still very much lively. The night wasn’t quite over. The podium winners had their press conference to attend while the rest of the drivers would have brief interviews in the media pen to quickly discuss their race performances. Even moreso, each team’s personnel were already on track to taking down their motorhome and garage setups in anticipation for the next destination, no second spared anywhere in Formula 1 - both on the circuit and off. 

Once inside the paddock, you and Daniel lingered outside the Ferrari motorhome to wait for Corbyn and Tabitha to meet you so you could start to get ready for the evening’s festivities. Daniel was buzzing to see his best friend and congratulate him on P4 and his hard fight he put out for the full two hours; and the drinks he had consumed throughout the day helped him to literally be bouncing on the balls on his feet as he looked up and down the paddock in search of Corbyn. 

Then suddenly, like a beacon in the evening light, Corbyn in his brilliant red Scuderia Ferrari race suit appeared farther down the bustling paddock with Tabitha walking proudly at his side. His suit was unzipped and resting lazily around his waist to reveal his matching long sleeve fireproofs beneath and he donned a match red Ferrari cap over his unruly helmet hair. At the sight of him, Daniel nearly jumped off the ground before making a beeline straight for him and Corbyn broke into a jog to meet him halfway, the two best friends grinning over their own ridiculousness as they met in a hard embrace in the centre of the paddock straight. 

“That was fucking amazing, bro!” Daniel praised loudly as they pulled out of their hug and he held a secure grip on Corbyn’s shoulders to give him a little shake, “You are a beast.”

Corbyn laughed bashfully at his best friend’s enthusiasm before replying modestly, “P4’s nothing great, really, but thanks, man.”

“Nothing great? Are you kidding?” Daniel shook him again. “Incredible.”

“Okay,” you grabbed Daniel’s arm as you joined their reunion and your boyfriend took a reluctant step back, “let’s not give the poor guy a concussion.”

“Incredible was Charles’ win today.” Corbyn corrected smoothly, “He’s been waiting so long for that moment…it’s so well deserved, and everyone on the grid knows it. Everyone is fucking buzzing…tonight is going to be insane.”

“Then let’s hurry up and get out of here.” you offered. 

“Yeah!” Corbyn agreed, “I just have to change out of this. Gimme a few seconds. Be right back.”

He left Tabitha with a kiss to her cheek before hurrying up the few steps into the Ferrari motorhome to return to his streetwear. It was mostly empty since most of the main crew was still out in the garage or celebrating around the podium so Corbyn wasn’t met with too many distractions on his journey to his driver’s room. Outside, you and Daniel were left with Tabitha who already had her camera equipment packed up in a modest professional bag draped over her shoulder and she asked some expected polite question about how you enjoyed the race. 

“I was surprised I caught onto it so quickly.” you confessed, “But I guess it’s repetitive enough to get the jist pretty easily. Did you get any good shots? I saw you at the podium ceremony.”

“Oh, yeah, I think so.” she looked down at her camera bag habitually, “I never look until I get home though so I can see them all properly on my laptop and get to editing.”

“You’re coming tonight though, right?” you asked almost worriedly. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m not much of a partier but I think tonight is a special occasion.”

You sighed with a smile, “Phew, I was worried I’d be the only girl.”

“Nah.” she shared a small upturn of her lips with you. 

Daniel, as if unable to hold himself back any longer, blurted out, “Corbyn did so amazing, right? That head-to-head with Lando was fucking stellar.”

Tabitha couldn’t help but laugh faintly at not only Daniel’s obvious exuberance but also your picture-worthy expression of playfully-annoyed amusement at your boyfriend’s thrill and she humoured him enough to nod, “Yeah, he’s always amazing.”

You ruffled your hand through Daniel’s hair and gave him a gentle shove of his head, “You’re fucking zazzed and we haven’t even gotten to the party yet.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Daniel did a little dramatic loop around you before grabbing you around the waist in an attempt to pick you up. Squealing, you ran out of his grasp and around behind Tabitha to put distance between you. 

“I do not really want to be in the middle of this.” she stated as the two of you stared over her head at each other, trying to out smart the other in who was going to make a move first. 

Ignoring her, you darted around her and dodged Daniel’s reach of his hand out towards you but he grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you back against his chest, swallowing you up in his arms. You tried to squirm away but he had you tightly, arms locked around you with your back to his chest and his lips pressed a kiss to your cheek and then your neck and you smiled fondly at his affection, even in the middle of the paddock. No one seemed to pay any mind anyway - they were all in their own worlds. 

As you waited for Corbyn, standing there wrapped up in Daniel’s arms, your attention was drawn to the sleek black motorhome directly beside Ferrari’s as someone walked out of the front sliding glass doors. George’s teammate was heading out for the evening and his presence in his black Mercedes t-shirt had you silently remembering George himself and wondering what he was up to at that moment. Leaning your head back against Daniel’s shoulder so you could look at Tabitha adjacent to you, you asked your question aloud,

“When are the top three coming out?” 

She checked her watch before answering you, “They should be in their media conference by now. They probably won’t be done for a little while.”

Playing it off, you looked back towards the Mercedes motorhome and your eyes followed George’s teammate past you and towards the exit, acknowledging her response with a casual, “Okay.”

Just then, Corbyn emerged from inside and he hopped down the few front steps and joined your group, “Ready?”

You hadn’t noticed Tabitha’s slightly suspicious glance at you thanks to your seemingly random question since you were too busy taking Daniel’s hand and accepting his fleeting kiss. Oh, you were so ready for the night to get started. 

You couldn’t make it back to Corbyn’s quick enough despite the fanciness of his sports car in which he navigated the traffic dense streets of Monaco thanks to the Grand Prix shutting down half of the roadways. His modern hillside house welcomed you as the sun dipped lower onwards the horizon and his car locked with a chirp as the four of you climbed the front porch steps and he led you inside. The four of you split up to start to get ready for the party, you and Daniel closing the door to the guest room behind you.

Right away, he was pulling off his Ferrari shirt and tossing it onto the bed while you stalked behind him slowly from a few paces away, finally alone together and thus having your opportunity for a private conversation out in the open. Daniel crouched down to lift his suitcase up from the floor and he set it on the foot of the bed to rifle through a little easier, trying to find something to wear for the yacht party. 

“Were you planning on showering before the party?” he asked without looking up. “I feel like I might…I’m a little sweaty.”

“Yeah,” you answered softly, falling to a stop beside him, “we can shower together if you want.”

Daniel looked up at you and licked away his playful smirk at your offer, “Sounds like a great idea.”

When he turned back to his suitcase, you cleared your throat quietly and shifted in place, staring at his profile that was permanently etched in your mind. Your heart was racing with the possibilities of what could ensue that night and although it had been a brief conversation you had with your boyfriend before leaving for this trip, the concept of taking the initiative to bring it up again felt a little shameful. 

“So,” you started, “remember what we said before we came here?”

Daniel chuckled, “That’s specific.” 

You pressed on, “About finding something wild and spontaneous to do that we normally wouldn’t do at home?”

Still busy rifling through his clothes in his suitcase, he didn’t offer you much more of a response than an encouraging, “Uh huh?” 

“I have an idea.” you said. 

Daniel glanced up at you, paused a moment as his eyes lingered on yours as if he were trying to read your mind before you could speak a word, but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was impossible to miss, “Oh really?”

You knew him well enough by then. He was going to make you say it.

“And what idea might that be?”

“Tonight, at the party,” you started, keeping your voice down so as to not risk Tabitha or Corbyn accidentally overhearing, “I think I want us to ask George if he wants to join us for the night.”

“You think?”

You huffed in half-frustration, sometimes hating the way he pushed you just to see the way you blushed at your own confessions of truth, but you corrected yourself the way he wanted, “I want us to invite George to join us tonight.”

Daniel slid a step closer to you with his eyes lingering on your lips as his hand ghosted over your waist, taunting you a little more, “Join us where?”

“Fuck you.” you laughed lightly behind the heat of your cheeks as you turned your head away from him, “You’re making me nervous.”

“You get all nervous from me looking at you and yet you expect to be all brave and invite another guy to fuck you? You’re gonna get all shy and blushy and mumbly around him and not even be able to get a word out.”

“Will not.” you insisted. “I’ll just need another drink…or two…first.”

“Mhm?” Daniel pulled you closer and you tucked your arms around his body habitually as he stared into your eyes, “How are you going to ask him?”

“I don’t know.” you whispered, “I’ll see how the moment feels.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Daniel’s fingers ran up the length of your arms and then down and back up again before he was tucking your hair behind your ears and speaking to you softly, “It’s gonna be so fucking hot watching another man fuck you, knowing he can’t have you because you’re all mine.”

You bit your lip to hide your growing bashful grin at his possessive words and his nose bumped lightly against yours with how close you were. Your fingers scratched gently over the warm skin of his lower back and you slid your hands around his waist to grab onto the belt loops of his jeans to pull him impossibly closer. He let out a sharp exhale against your cheek at your move as his palms cradled your face and the sides of your neck, keeping your eyes on his. 

“And if you ever feel like it’s too much, you tell me right away and we stop.” you whispered to him. 

Daniel nodded, “I know. You too.”

Your hands ran up his abs and the shape of his figure over his warm skin, feeling his body against yours like that, taunting you with what you were sure to have later. You were already flustered from the way he was looking at you and speaking to you, his voice in that rich low tone that made your knees weak, but the anticipation for the mystery man with the aquamarine eyes and dazzling smile had your insides fluttering impatiently. It was a whole big mess of hormones swirling inside you, desperate to be released. Just a little more waiting. 

As if thinking the same thing, Daniel sighed softly, “If we keep standing here staring at each other like this, I’m just gonna have to throw you on this bed and fuck you right now.”

Giggling, you pushed him away from you as you took a step back to leave space between the two of you and you turned for the ensuite bathroom, pulling your shirt over your head as you enticed him, “Come join me in the shower and we can warm up.”

Impressively, your shower was managed without too many wandering hands and intrusive thoughts although your steamy kisses between the shared responsibility of washing certainly didn’t make it easy. Daniel even helped to shave your legs for you and he helped to moisturize your warm skin fresh out of the shower afterwards, leaving you to work on your hair as he got dressed. After drying your hair, you took your time to straighten it and lightly hairspray it in place, making sure there wasn’t a flyaway to be seen. 

Daniel lingered in the bathroom doorway as he did up his belt, watching you get ready and how you leaned over the vanity to meticulously apply your light makeup and made sure you finished it off with a sufficient amount of setting spray. Your attention to detail had your boyfriend smiling fondly with a soft shake of his head and he disappeared back into the bedroom to pull on his teal, grey, and white plaid shirt over his white t-shirt. You were right behind him, ridding your towel for your bra and panties and Daniel gave your bum a smack on his way past to take his turn in the bathroom mirror. 

Once you were dressed and ready to go, Corbyn and Tabitha had been waiting for you for at least a good thirty minutes downstairs. They certainly had some teasing things to say about you both needing so long to get ready but you weren’t phased - you had very specific plans to prepare for that required extra attention in getting ready. At least they waited until you were done to call the taxi otherwise the poor driver would have been sitting there for a while.

It was just past 10:00 when you arrived at the marina and the once bright blue sky was an inky black, smudged into the rippling water of the sea along the horizon. The lights of Monaco were hard to appreciate from your position on land but as you stepped out of the taxi at the docks, you turned to look over your shoulder at the small city that thrived with nightlife of the rich and famous. You felt both out of your element and right in the middle of it all in the same. Another taxi pulled up beside yours and you waited with Corbyn and Tabitha so they could greet their newly arrived friends.

The young man who stepped out of the car was already all smiles as he saw who was awaiting him, his light brown hair fluffed neatly across his forehead and his light dusting of facial hair trimmed to a modest and tidy length. His smile was big enough to scrunch his eyes shut at the corners and if you didn’t know better, you would think he was part of Fashion Week with his designer attire of a crisp button up under a name brand letterman jacket over ironed slacks. Corbyn met him first with a fist bump and a passing ‘hey, man’ and then Tabitha was greeted by him by name,

“Tabitha,” he nodded in her direction, his words laced through a very obvious French accent, “Hello.”

“Hey, Pierre.” she smiled calmly at him.

“Funny seeing you without a camera on your neck.” he teased lightly. 

“You’ve seen me plenty of times without my camera.” she reminded him lightheartedly although he just laughed softly at his own joke before she changed the subject, “Good race today.”

“Not my best, but thank you.” he shrugged, “Very good for Charles.”

“Agreed.”

Corbyn then introduced you and Daniel to Pierre, driver for the Alpine team, and you could remember them from their striking pink branding. Once hellos were shared and the five of you continued down the pier to locate the yacht, you trailed behind with Daniel, hand in hand, and you leaned into him to ask in a whisper, “Is everyone in this damn sport attractive or is the expensive alcohol I’ve consumed today giving me rose coloured glasses?”

“I think the alcohol has worn off.” Daniel reminded you, “So I think everyone’s just attractive.”

“Nice.” you muttered with a shake of your head. 

Although the harbour was full of yachts of various sizes, the one that was docked at the end of the pier with all its lights on and already housing a few individuals on its deck that leaked thudding party tunes assured you that there was no question as to your destination. From the top deck, someone shouted down to you as you approached the end of the pier and you all looked up to see the brunette with a wide grin leaning over the railing. 

“Oi! Corbyn! My brother! You made it!” he shouted down vivaciously, his already clearly tipsy words jumbled within a thick Australian accent. “Let me come down there and say hello!” 

Corbyn turned to look back at you and your boyfriend, preparing you quietly, playfully, “Prepare to meet Daniel Ricciardo, the life of the party and arguably the protagonist of F1 according to the Netflix series.” 

Pierre honestly laughed in agreement, lingering a pace behind Corbyn and Tabitha as they started to board. He gestured you and Daniel first to which you thanked him and then accepted your boyfriend’s hand to assist you across the gap to step onboard. By then, the host of the yacht party and ultimately the unofficial greeting committee had made it down to the main deck and Corbyn introduced you. 

He shook Daniel’s hand then yours, “Good to meet ya, good to meet ya-” he then went to hold his hand out to Pierre who was behind you but then immediately took it back, “And I already know ya.”

“Good to see you too.” Pierre scoffed lightheartedly before excusing himself to join one of the groups of other drivers standing at the back of the yacht. 

“So glad you could make it; the more the merrier!” the host expressed loudly, “Come, lemmy show you around. Give you the grand tour.”

You followed the Australian Daniel farther onto the yacht and through the sliding glass doors into the main interior space that was clad in black trim and dark wood finishes, completed with crisp white leather upholstery that absolutely drooled luxury. The 80” flatscreen along the right wall faced a spacious white sectional sofa and matching dark wood coffee table although everyone lingered outside instead, choosing the natural beauty of the Monaco harbour over television. Up two steps was the dining area with a marble waterfall table for eight that was nestled beside the large paned window overlooking the inky ocean. Just beyond was the small kitchenette and the bridge where the hired captain was preparing for your harbour party once everyone was aboard. 

The second deck was the bar area and a few of the other drivers were already up there, helping themselves to the well stocked mini fridge and set up. The host poured you each a drink himself - insisting that he wanted to do the honours - and then walked you to the back of the top deck that overlooked the main deck below. It was a spacious yacht with plenty of outdoor socialization area that the party goers seemed to be making the most of; either lounging on the white upholstered sofas or loitering in little cliques by the water. Standing at the railing on the top deck, you peered down to the modest crowd of men below, trying to pick any words out of their loud conversations behind their mingled accents and the loud music that overtook the yacht. 

Everyone looked so nice in their party clothes after only seeing them in uniforms and racewear all weekend and that only made your appreciation for people watching that much more interesting. It was always fun to see what kind of clothes people chose when they had a say. You sipped your drink and stood comfortably under the casual arm of your boyfriend as you chatted with your two friends and awaited the announcement that you were to be setting sail. A few people came past your group to say hello or share a fleeting conversation before moving on to chat with others. You were introduced to a few more drivers that way - some you forgot the names of the moment they were out of earshot - and others you had already met in passing throughout the weekend. 

Charles got a huge cheer from the crowd of friends when he arrived on board and his bashful smile was passed around with one armed hugs or fist bumps with his friendly rivals. He was the homerace winner after many years of waiting and praying and although the attention and celebration of such caliber was a little unfamiliar throughout the grid, it was only proof of how much everyone loved Charles and knew he deserved it after all his hardwork and trials and tribulations. He ended up joining your group on the top deck and, already a drink deep, you had just enough courage to compliment his choice of an airy button up shirt that ruffled in the harbour breeze. 

Unbeknownst to your friends, however, despite the good company, you were still awaiting someone’s arrival and as the minutes ticked by, you only felt yourself growing more and more antsy. You played it off well, you were sure, trying to use the excuse of admiring the Monaco harbour as your reason for constantly looking in the direction of the pier. But, like a watched pot never boils, your expected guest appeared when you were least expecting him. 

The final few missing members of your party arrived around 10:45 and it wasn’t until Lando and his teammate emerged from the staircase that you glanced down to the main deck to see if they had come alone. Sure enough, George was finishing up his round of greetings down below and you kept your shameless gaze on him in his white khakis and t-shirt under a neat navy blue cardigan. His hair was tidied and pushed out of his face in those usual beachy waves as if he had showered and made an effort to clean himself up before the party; maybe that’s why he was a little late. Overall, his attire emitted the essence of the old money style and that was enough to have you struggling to keep your eyes to yourself as you stared him down greedily from the top deck. 

Torn away from ogling George for a moment, you paid enough attention to your newly arrived friends and Corbyn held his hand out to Lando as they approached, “Late as always.”

Taking his hand to pull each other into a fleeting one armed hug, Lando answered smoothly, “Had to make an entrance, don’t you know that by now?”

Compared to their angry words from their battle on the track earlier that day, they greeted each other like nothing was wrong. It was a strange realization for both you and Daniel who half expected there to be lingering hostility between the two drivers after their incident, coming to terms to the polar differences from how they acted on track versus face-to-face. It really was an every-man-for-himself game out there but they were mature enough to know when to keep arguments as part of the job and let things slide off their backs. 

At the same time, you were introduced to Lando’s teammate, Oscar, who was apparently the youngest on the grid. He definitely looked it, you thought, as his cheeks were reminiscent of a little boy still although he was still a legal adult at twenty-one. Lando, who was boisterous and personable and always up for a chat, seemed to act as Oscar’s emotional support teammate as the younger stood close at his side and simply observed for the first little while. Tabitha seemed to be good at coaxing some conversation out of him and soon he was opening up a little more - with help from a drink that Lando had thrust into his hand. 

Only a few moments later, a girl in a flowing floral sundress emerged from the stairs and found her spot beside Oscar with a gentle touch to his back. He looked over at her and he broke into a grin that just took up his whole face before introducing her to the rest of you, “This is my girlfriend, Lily.” 

Your heart swelled over the way he looked at her and their youthful puppy-love glances at each other had you ‘aww’ing out loud. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or maybe it was the nervous energy in the back of your mind that you somehow needed a distraction from, but you couldn’t help yourself but reach out to pinch Oscar’s cheek gently, with a coo of, “You are so freaking cute.”

Lando snorted and turned behind Charles’ shoulder who snickered in amusement at your move. Oscar just blinked at you for a second, processing what just happened, and then he let out a little laugh and gave you a passive thumbs up. 

“Thanks.”

Tabitha seemed to have your back in smoothing over what could have easily turned into an awkward moment, “He is the baby of the grid, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oscar chuckled bashfully. 

By then, with everyone on board, the captain came out to announce that it was anchors away and time to head out into the ocean and leave the Monaco coast and your ties to reality behind for the night. As the yacht’s quiet engine rumbled to life and the luxury vessel was steered away from the pier, you let your eyes drift from your little group down to the main deck again, sipping your drink as your eyes were locked on the handsome stranger down below. Daniel’s arm around your waist kept you distracted, however, and once conversation flowed with the drinks, you found yourself focusing more on your boyfriend than anyone else. You were out in open water by then so it wasn’t like George could make any kind of getaway before you could pitch your offer to him. 

Your group grew and shrunk as the minutes passed and people mingled and soon, you and Daniel were alone on the top deck lounge. His arm was resting behind you on the railing as the sea air ruffled through his soft curls and his other hand nursed his uncountable drink from that night. The way he looked at you always made your inside flutter but especially then when you were a little tipsy and already a little aroused with anticipation and the lights that trimmed the luxury yacht sparkled in his blue eyes. 

“You doing okay?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the music in your close proximity. 

“Yeah, I’m great.” you nodded. 

His arm raised from the railing to wrap around your shoulders and he pulled you into his side and leaned in to kiss your lips once. The gentle sway of the yacht had him leaning into you a little more and your hand reached up to slide around the back of his neck and keep his lips on yours. You shared a few soft kisses before he was giving your bottom lip a little nibble and you gladly opened up for his tongue to nudge against yours. 

It seemed to be the standard that you ended up like that at a party, wrapped up together away from the crowd and drunkenly making out until it got a little too heated and you had to either stop or make a quick escape. Even on a yacht of wealthy strangers, nothing could get between the carnal lust you held for your boyfriend and the weakness you felt from his kiss. 

Still holding his half-filled glass, he carefully slid that arm around your back and pulled you against his chest as he rested back against the railing of the deck so you were pressed chest to chest. You kept your one hand in the ends of his hair while your other kept to the side with the bottom of your glass resting on top of the railing, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his like always. All day you had been craving some sort of attention to satisfy that peaky lewd need that was burning inside you and even from only a few lingering kisses from Daniel were you already easing into satisfaction. 

His arms around you pulled you impossibly closer until you were standing between his legs and he tilted his head a little more to the side to kiss you deeper, licking his way into your mouth until you were groaning happily into his kiss and tightening your fingers in the back of his hair. You could taste the expensive alcohol on his tongue and his love for you on his lips and for a moment you were completely lost in him and only him. With the lights of Monaco sparkling like stars along the hillside in the distance and reflecting in ripples across the dark ocean around you, it was a picture perfect moment of you and him. 

And then something had you pulling away from his kiss for a moment to flutter your eyes open and Daniel didn’t miss a beat as he moved his lips down your neck in plentiful open mouthed kisses. Your gaze was pulled from the beautiful city along the horizon down to the main deck that was littered with people who hardly paid you any mind. Well, except for one person, as George was already looking right at you when your eyes landed on him. He was standing in a small circle of some of the other drivers but they were chatting away completely clueless while he seemed much more interested in you and your boyfriend than anything that was being said by his friends. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring, his expression unreadable as he held his glass in his hand and hardly even blinked. His stare was intense and your hand tightened habitually around the back of Daniel’s neck and he trailed his kisses back up to your lips to kiss you properly again, but you kept your eyes open to keep George’s gaze and you couldn’t help the sly smile that came to your lips. 

“What are you smiling at?” Daniel chuckled into your mouth.

“He’s watching us.” you whispered, keeping your hand snug at the back of his neck to keep him from turning over his shoulder to see for himself, “Don’t look.”

“What are you wanting to do?” Daniel asked.

“Kiss my neck some more.” you instructed softly. 

Never one to deny you that, Daniel ghosted his nose along your jawline and pressed his lips to your neck in a soft kiss before planting another just under your ear. Although it was all a bit of a ploy to get the attention of your mystery man, the sparks that Daniel could cause to shoot across your skin were entirely real and as he licked across your flushed skin just under your ear and left an open mouthed kiss to the same spot, you could feel yourself throb down your jeans. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, just long enough to focus on that beautiful sensation for a few seconds, but when you opened your eyes again and looked back down to the main deck, George was gone from his group. 

You pulled away from Daniel in slight confusion and he was finally able to look down to the deck himself without you stopping him. His eyebrows furrowed since it all seemed a little suspicious that you were playing it up that George was there and when he looked, he was actually nowhere to be seen. But before either of you could speak to it, the man you were looking for was emerging from the top of the staircase onto the top deck. 

George walked casually across the wood floors towards the bar, offering you both a calm smile and he lifted his empty glass, “Sorry to interrupt. Just getting a refill.”

You and Daniel were still standing at the railing, now side by side, with your arms around each other, right up close, and Daniel didn’t say a word, knowing that this was all your opportunity and he wasn’t going to be the one to take the initiative to initiate a situation that was about you. Instead, he tore his stare away from you to look towards George at the bar, waiting and curious to see what your move would be. Almost as if he were thinking the same, George glanced up at you both across the otherwise vacant deck. The music was loud and the presence of the rest of the partygoers on the yacht was obvious with the lively sound of chatter and laughter from the deck below but, at the same time, your area felt entirely secluded and private. 

Knocking back the rest of your drink, you tore yourself away from Daniel and strode across the deck to step under the roof and join George at the bar, your boyfriend trailing behind you. In a fit of alcohol induced bravery, you leaned forward against the bar top opposite this stranger and offered him a warm and flirtatious, “Hey, handsome.”

George, in near shock, looked up at you and then glanced past you to your boyfriend standing just behind you and then, finally, back at you. In reply, he offered a safe, “Hello, there.”

“Saw your win today. I was very impressed.”

George chuckled softly, setting the bottle of whatever he was pouring himself back in the fridge, “Hardly a win. That was all Charles.”

“I dunno…” you shrugged, “I saw a trophy in your hand. That counts as a win to me.”

“I like the way you think.” he complimented with a soft smile, lifting his glass up towards his lips as if anticipating a sip before speaking, “If only it worked like that.”

You watched him take a drink before setting his glass back down on the countertop as he recovered quickly,

“Pardon me. Did you two want refills as well?”

“Would love one, thank you so much. Whatever you’re having.” you slid your glass across the bar and he reached under the counter to find the bottle of whatever he had served himself from the fridge before pouring you your drink. As he did, you asked him innocently, “Did you come here with anyone to celebrate tonight?” 

“Nope. Just Alex.” he chuckled, referencing his close friend from one of the other teams that you recalled briefly meeting earlier that weekend. “And Alex brought his girlfriend so I am the third wheel tonight.”

Daniel cleared his throat and turned his head to keep his smirk at bay, lifting his half-full drink up to sip from. He was already too far ahead in your plan for that evening and George’s innocent statement didn’t look like it was going to be solved by your pitch any time soon. 

“I see,” you spoke casually, still leaning forward against the side of the bar, you dragged your fingertip around the rim of your glass without taking your eyes off of him, “That’s actually perfect.”

George cocked his head to the side slightly in curious confusion, “How is it perfect?”

“Well, we were wondering,” you spoke slowly, cautiously, a hint of that proud salacious smile in your tone, “if you had no one to help you properly celebrate your podium finish tonight…would you be up to celebrating with us?”

His eyebrows raised slightly, drink held in midair as he processed the meaning behind your words. He licked his lips and then bit them habitually, taking a second to arrange his thoughts before he answered, “And what do you plan on us doing to properly celebrate?” 

Oh the warm richness of his voice in that enchanting accent was enough to make you drip. You played it off coolly as you dragged your fingertips up the length of your glass and back down absentmindedly without taking your eyes off his face, answering him with the sweetest innocence, “Well, the three of us can find a spot that’s a little more private than out here and we…I can help you feel like the real winner. I think you deserve that, don’t you?”

Your question put the ball back in his court, pressing him a little more for an answer. 

George’s hand looked so big around his glass he was holding and you couldn’t help but glance down to the way his slender fingers held it so tenderly in his grap, your mind already miles ahead of where you were in your plan. You were sure if he said no that you would have to throw yourself overboard with embarrassment and so you nearly held your breath as you watched him ponder your offer. As if knowing he were stringing you along just a little, he lifted the glass up to his lips as he stared at you under faintly furrowed brows and he tossed back the rest of his drink smoothly before setting the empty glass down on the counter with a faint clink. 

“Alright,” he cleared his throat lightly and took a step back from the bar, “come on, then.” 

You straightened up quickly, trying to keep your shocked grin at bay as you glanced back at Daniel. He finished his drink too and set it down before sending you a knowing smirk as if he knew your plan would succeed, and his hand rested on your lower back to let you follow after George ahead of him. It was hard not to run after him with the excitement that burned within you and you paid extra caution on the stairs as the rocking of the boat made your already tipsy head spin a little more with each step. 

Everyone was mingling around the main deck, both inside and outside, but George navigated through the edges of the crowd like he knew where he was going and led the way through the open sliding glass doors into the interior of the main deck. You followed him with a few paces between you while Daniel was directly behind you and your boyfriend’s hand found yours as you walked in a row and moved effortlessly past the obliviousness of the other partygoers. Adjacent to the dining table were the stairs into the depths of the yacht and you followed George casually so as to not draw too much attention to yourself. But your attempt at being blasé about it all was only slightly foiled when you reached the bottom of the tight staircase only to bump into Alex in the narrow hallway. 

“Oh.” Alex stopped in his tracks before he could run right into George, “Hello, mate. Where are you all headed?”

As the close friends shared a habitual fist bump, George answered him calmly, “Showing our guests to the toilet, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah.” Alex stepped aside and gestured the group of you on, “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks, mate.” George gave him a pat to his shoulder as you three slipped past him. 

You were sure if you looked at Alex you would have given yourself away as if your secret plan was written all over your face in neon lights, so you kept your head down and tried to move past him as quickly as possible despite the tipsy smile that seemed to be every present on your lips. The moment the three of you were past Alex, he was making his way back upstairs to the party, only stopping halfway up to glance back down into the narrow hallway. George’s lie was smooth, but was it believable? You could only hope that Alex was too drunk himself to think much deeper about it. 

You had to turn the corner in the direction of the bathroom to move out of the way for Alex but once he had disappeared upstairs again, George slid back to the way you came to reach the shut wood door directly at the bottom landing of the stairs. He tried the handle and it opened with ease and he cocked his head to encourage you both inside. 

The cream commercial grade carpet softened your footfalls as you stepped into the surprisingly spacious bedroom that was located in the centre of the yacht’s cabin. Directly ahead of the entrance door was a neatly made king size bed with a sleek black leather headboard that reached the ceiling, the pulled tight duvet complete with throw pillows and a coverlet that was embroidered with the rental company’s luxurious logo. Both sides of the room had horizontal windows overlooking the darkened ocean and through the one to your left, above the built-in lower cabinet storage in that same dark wood detailing that shone in pristine condition throughout the entire yacht, you could see the sparkling coastline of Monaco in the distance. To the right, under the window and wrapping around to the wall you had passed through, was a corner leather window seat in white upholstery that matched those found on the upper decks, topped with throw pillows and concealing dark wood storage drawers beneath. 

The room was absolutely handsome if nothing else and you felt as though you were dreaming; the entire weekend being so out of the ordinary for your normal life that it had to have been the only explanation. The click of the door behind you had you turning casually in the centre of the modest size room to face the two men, although your boyfriend drifted curiously to the window, leaning his hands on top of the lower cabinets so he could learn close to the glass and peer out at the twinkling city lights.

“How did you know this room was here?” Daniel asked in near admiration before turning back around to face the two of you. 

“I have connections. It’s not important.” George brushed it off, “Besides, you attend enough of these parties and you start to find your way around.”

“You often escape to the bedrooms at parties?” Daniel challenged as he leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest with a coy smirk. 

George chuckled modestly, “Here and there.”

“Ever with two people?” you asked.

“Actually, no.” he answered. “This is a first.”

“Us too.” you added. 

George peaked a brow at you, “Really? By the way you were coming onto me I would have expected you to be pros.”

“No,” you drew the word out softly, sliding a step closer to him, “I just know what I want and I’m not going to let it pass me by.”

“And what is it that you want?”

His voice was so rich and enticing and he spoke to you in a tone that was gentle but with a firmness to it that had you biting back your restless smile. His slender frame was only two or so inches taller than you but standing right in front of him like that made him feel so much bigger than you. You fought with the intimidation inside of you, trying to lean into that liquid courage that had your chest feeling warm and helping to ease you into a more comfortable reality and facing the existence of your desires that were being dangled right in front of you, just within arm’s reach. 

With a soft breath, you answered him, “You.” 

“Mhm?” George couldn’t stop staring at you, “And how long have you been sitting on that confession?”

“Since yesterday afternoon.” you admitted, “Since seeing you talking with Tabitha and Charles in the paddock. I thought you were so fucking sexy.”

Your fingers raised quickly to ghost over your lips as if you hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out, wide eyes staring back at him. But George just chuckled warmly, his smile almost bringing you to your knees, and those big aquamarine eyes taking in every little inch of your face.

“I can’t imagine what your boyfriend thought of the idea at first.” he said playfully.

“It was his idea.” you confessed, glancing back at Daniel who was still leaning against the storage cabinets as you continued, “We agreed we’d have some fun on this trip and he said he’d let me pick whomever I wanted.”

You looked back at George and it took all your self control not to reach out and touch him, almost nervous that if you did, he would back out. He had already agreed though and you were sure he wasn’t going to rethink his decision. It was all in your hands to progress this night onwards and everyone in that room knew it. 

“And today,” you rambled on, letting the alcohol in your system act as your fearlessness as you finally reached a hand out to testingly nudge the fabric of his open blue cardigan before ghosting your fingertips over his pecs, “seeing you race…and then getting up there on that podium…wish I could have been able to just lick that champagne off of you.”

“Jesus Christ.” George exhaled with a small shutter at your blunt words, “You’re not shy at all, are you, love?”

Daniel answered for you from his spot a few paces away, “Not when she’s tipsy. And she gets fucking horny after a few drinks.” 

George skimmed his eyes across your face, agreeing quietly, “Yeah, her cheeks are already so flushed.”

Your palm bravely rested down against his chest and you dragged your hand down his torso to earn your first testing feel of his body. He was similar to Daniel with a slim, lean build, but his athleticism as a professional athlete definitely outshone Daniel’s recreational gym trips and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you felt the taught muscle of his abs through his thin white t-shirt. 

“Sweetheart?” Daniel called out to you angelically. 

“Yes, sunshine?” you answered obediently without taking your eyes off the exploratory path of your hand moving back up George’s body. 

“Do you want to get us started?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Go on then. Gimme a little show, baby.”

Your eyes slowly, slowly slid up George’s body and your fingers followed in the faintest of touches until your fingertips were grazing over his neck and jaw and you could feel him shutter under your hesitant teasing. His skin was so warm and it drew fire across your body as he finally reached out to ghost his hands over your waist and you took a step closer to him, lost in the storm of his eyes and drawn in by the way he licked his alluring lips. 

His expensive cologne smelt so good too - his scent tied in with hints of the salty sea air that kissed his skin from the hour on the deck of the luxury yacht - and your head tilted faintly to the side to tempt him closer, feeling his breath against your cheek. He was so close and you were already going fucking crazy stuck lingering in that torturous anticipation, feeling how your boyfriend’s eyes bore into the back of your head from where he stood watching. Shivers tore up your spine as George’s hands slid farther around your hips and rested politely over your back, guiding you gently towards him just as his lips grazed over yours.

Then, as you parted your lips just enough to lock with his in a soft, lingering kiss, you swore sparks of euphoria erupted in the back of your mind. The first kiss was nothing but the tiniest, most innocent testing of the waters but as you broke apart, he was tightening his hands on your waist and pulling your body against his as he leaned in for another. You couldn’t help the small hum of appreciation that slipped from your lips onto his as he kissed you again, lingering together like that again as your hand slid up from his chest to rest on his shoulder. You broke apart again just long enough to go in for a third and as you did, George lifted a hand from your waist to set tenderly on the side of your neck to guide you deeper into your shared kiss and his thumb slid around your throat. His simple move had you tilting your head a little more to deepen your kisses that only seemed to get hungrier by the second as you swayed together with the gentle rocking of the yacht on the restless ocean waves.

George kissed so much differently than Daniel and his lips were plumper which made sinking your teeth into the bottom one just a little more enthralling. He chuckled warmly at your move but pulled you in again by his hand sliding around the back of your neck and tangling in the roots of your hair, locking your lips with his in shiver-worthy kisses. Maybe it was the foreignness of the situation compared to the comfortable familiarity you had with Daniel, but he also seemed a little more gentle than your boyfriend; taking his time with you, making sure you knew you had every ounce of his attention. 

God, but he knew how to kiss and that was obvious. You were finally getting what you had wanted all weekend and yet it still didn’t feel like enough, forcing you to wrap your arms right around his shoulders to embrace him closer and pull more from him. His tongue teased your bottom lip gently and you gladly opened up more for him, meeting him halfway for filthier kisses that had you throbbing down your jeans. The muted music from the party going on upstairs was obsolete as your ears were tuned right into the wet sounds of your deepening kisses and your breaths falling as one. George moaned softly into your mouth, a greedy rich sound that you felt throughout your body, and you arched into him habitually with a soft whine of your own and pulled him into you by your arms slung around his shoulders. 

His front was almost completely pressed right up against yours but even that didn’t feel like enough as he dropped his hands to your waist and tugged you impossibly closer as his tongue pushed intently against yours. Kissing him back in a clumsy battle of lips and tongues, you moved your hands back to his shoulders to anchor yourself for a moment before breaking away from his mouth to trail impatient kisses down his neck. His warm skin under your lips was invigorating and you breathed him in selfishly as you kissed right up under his ear.

“Fuck.” George breathed to the ceiling as he tilted his head back ever so slightly to give you room, his hands tightening around your waist as you licked up his neck and seemed to reach all the spots that made him shiver. 

From across the room and still leaning casually against the cabinetry, Daniel spoke again, “Good girl, baby. You’re just fucking throwing yourself at him.”

Words were a waste of precious time so you simply replied with an agreeable hum against George’s neck between open mouthed kisses that you moved down towards the collar of his t-shirt. Your hands slid down from his shoulders to caress his chest over his clothes and you stole a few more kisses from his lips as you pushed his navy blue cardigan off his shoulders and to the floor. He helped to shrug it off and get his arms out and before he was even completely out of it, you were already peppering hurried kisses down his chest and over his abs that were hidden under his t-shirt before you sank yourself all the way down to your knees in front of him.

Not wasting a second, you untucked his t-shirt from his pants and shoved up the bottom of it to get your first peek at his body, leaning in to press your lips just above his navel and kissing right down between his firm abs to the waistband of his jeans. You raised your eyes up to him, staring up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth as you pulled the leather of his belt through the buckle and tugged at it hard to get it unpinned, making him have to take a half step towards you to keep from falling over at your aggression. 

“Christ.” he groaned lowly as he stared down at you, wide eyed, “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

You left his belt open so you could focus on popping the button on his jeans all while staring up at him with a sweet smile that was so incredibly hard to hide, only giving him a nod.

“Use your words.” Daniel reminded you firmly from a few paces away, “Show him what a good girl you are.”

You licked away your smile, still peering up at the handsome stranger that was quickly becoming less than a mystery to you as you rested on your knees for him, your careful fingers tugging down the zipper of his pants as you confessed up to him softly, “I’m so fucking desperate for your cock.”

Although his breath shuttered at your blunt words, he played it off with a brush of his fingers through your hair and a taunting, “Yeah? You wanna suck it for me, darling?”

“Please, can I?” you asked sweetly. 

“Go on then.” he permitted. 

He was so tall that you had you sit up on your knees with your posture perfectly straight to reach him comfortably but that fact only had you grinning excitedly as you tugged open the fly of his white jeans and then grabbed hold of the waistband of his pants and his underwear at the same time to yank them down together. You could almost hear the thudding of your heart over the muffled music and chatter coming from the deck above but your attention was all too focused on what you had been fantasizing about all weekend. Before this, the only man you had ever been with was Daniel. He was your first and your only, but even as you delved into a world of experimentation together, simply having him keeping a watchful eye from across the room was reassuring enough for you as you earned your first look at a man who was not him. 

“Oh my God.” you exhaled, hands still grasping onto the waistband of George’s pants as you took a moment to just stare at him. 

Neatly trimmed and kept, he was already somewhat hard and was at least somewhat bigger than Daniel. Not that you minded or made a point to speak to it, but the intimidation factor was certainly all encompassing of this man in front of you from his dazzling eyes and model height to the impressive dick that, tonight, was all yours. You hesitated, as if forgetting all your plentiful prior experience you had with your boyfriend, simply gaping at George’s dick in your face. 

Daniel, who knew you better than anyone, was easily there with the save, “I think he’s waiting for you to touch it, sweetheart.”

You giggled shyly and moved your right hand away from his fly to gently wrap around the base of his heavy cock and you stuck out your tongue and leaned in to lick at the tip teasingly. George’s hand pushed through your hair again to get your bangs out of your face and his soft exhale had you dragging your tongue right up the side of his dick without tearing your eyes away from his. 

“That’s my good girl.” Daniel praised honestly, dropping a hand down to adjust himself over his pants, “Now wrap those pretty little lips around him and show him what you can do.”

You tore your eyes away from your handsome stranger to look at your task at hand as you pursed your lips to dribble some spit down onto the head of his cock. Your hand gave him a few lazy strokes to slick your palm up in it as you shuffled a little closer on your knees and you pressed a tender kiss right to the tip before slowly guiding him into your mouth. Feeling the warm weight of his cock against your tongue had your eyes fluttering shut with a soft moan as you sunk your mouth around him farther. 

George took in a sharp breath through his teeth and his hand tightened in your hair, staring down at your mouth wrapped around his cock and he used his other hand to pull the hem of his shirt up and out of your way. He then licked his lips habitually before speaking to you in a voice as smooth as butter, “You are such a good girl, aren’t you?”

You hummed around him softly in agreement before starting to pull your mouth back before moving down again, all while your right hand was keeping him in place for you. You could feel him getting harder in your mouth, swelling up against your tongue, and it was a feeling that had you salivating; the proof of which being the way your spit slipped past your lips and leaked down the shaft of his cock to your hand wrapped around the base. 

After a few seconds, you pulled off him to take a breath - and to get a real, proper look at him - as your hand picked up the slack. It was true, what you had said earlier, that there was absolutely nothing wrong with this man; there was not a damn inch on his body that had even an atom of ugly and it blew your goddamn mind into nothing more than buzz of humanistic arousal. You couldn’t help the bite of your lip as you stared at your hand pumping his cock with steady flicks of your wrist as if you were trying to memorize the sight of him like that. Your weekend fling, that was that. You were going to have one and only one glorious night with this man so you knew you needed to make the most of it and make it count. 

So you took his dick back in your mouth and nestled yourself down until your lips met your fist and when you pulled back, you hollowed your cheeks greedily to earn yourself a pretty moan from his chest. The sound went right between your legs and encouraged you to repeat that action just to hear more of him. Only a few strokes in and the modest bedroom was easily welcoming the sloppy sounds of your mouth taking him in steady bobs of your head, forcing more spit to drip from your mouth and down your chin. You never minded being messy with it. 

Daniel from his spot across the room, was indiscreetly palming himself over his jeans with his gaze focused all on you and he spoke to you in a coo, “Look at you, sweetheart, you have a millionaire’s dick in your mouth. How's that feel?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they already were but you didn’t want to lose out on a second with George’s cock in your mouth so all you gave your boyfriend in reply was a pleased moan in agreement. 

“Really good, hm?” George taunted cockily, lifting his other hand to help keep your hair back as he kept his gaze all on you and the rhythmic strokes of your mouth you offered him. He bit his bottom lip through a faint groan with both of his large hands wrapped around your hair in a sort of messy makeshift ponytail that certainly was messing up your curls that you had meticulously worked on before coming to the party. You didn’t mind, however, as you were more than willing to let him ruin you however he pleased, and that only seemed to be working in your favour as he let another soft moan slip past his lips before complimenting you honestly, “You’re a fucking goddess.” 

But maybe that was just stemmed from the fact you had his cock in your mouth.

You started to move your hand in twisting strokes at the same pace of your mouth taking half of him against your tongue over and over, desperate to bring him pleasure and show off how good you could be. With both of his hands in your hair, his shirt had fallen back into place and you took the initiative with your left hand to link your thumb under the hem and slide your palm up his body to hold it out of your way. The firm muscle of his abdomen had you hungry for more of him as you sucked on his cock in messy slurps. 

Suddenly, the yacht swayed a little more than usual over a rougher wave and between that, the alcohol in his system, and his pants around his knees, George stumbled slightly with a, “Shit.”

You pressed your hand a little harder against his abs, instructing him with a gentle, “Lean against the door.”

He glanced behind him and then took the two steps back so he was resting flat against the locked door and as you shuffled on your knees to take your place in front of him again, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. You forced yourself to take a second to admire his bare torso as your hand stroked his dick in the meantime, wide eyes nearly turning into hearts at the sight of him and his vast expanse of soft caramel skin. The position felt so much more invigorating to have him sandwiched between the door and you and it gave you a flicker of powerfulness in your chest, especially as you got a whimper out of him as you finally sunk your mouth down on him again. George’s hands tangled in your hair again and as he fell into his own familiarity with the situation, he gently started to guide your motions a little deeper. 

“Can you take more, darling?” he purred angelically. 

Daniel answered for you, “She can. Honestly, just use her mouth all you want.”

Almost disbelieving, George looked over at him with slightly furrowed brows, “Really?”

“If it’s too much, she’ll tap out three times on your thigh.” Daniel assured him, “She likes it. Don’t you, baby?”

You pulled off George’s cock with a messy slurp and glanced over at Daniel as you smeared your spitty lips over the length of it before answering, “Yes, sir.”

“So you better tell him that then.”

You tore your eyes away from your boyfriend to bat your eyelashes up at the man you were on your knees for and with your hand snugly holding his dick against your mouth, you asked of him angelically, “Please can you fuck my throat?”

“Such good manners.” George praised warmly as his hands in your hair guided you in again. 

You didn’t hesitate before opening up to take his dick in your mouth again as you set your hands on his thighs for balance. He then slowly started to take control of your head as he pulled you into shallow motions to start you off, his breaths falling in time with your rhythm. But you were impatient and desperately wanting more, so you took the initiative yourself and forced yourself deeper on him until you gagged yourself on him. He took the hint to tighten his hands in your hair and keep you at that greedy depth as he started to nudge his hips towards you, forcing another wet gag from your throat. Your fingers dug into his thighs but you didn’t complain about the slight discomfort that came with the responsibility. 

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” George groaned tightly, fingers locked in your hair just tight enough to keep a snug pull at your scalp that made you moan messily around him. 

You tried to look up at him but the tears that burned your eyes made your vision blurry and you scrunched your eyes closed instead, putting your focus on staying right where he needed you. The sounds were horribly lewd and if you were a bit more sober you might have worried that anyone who walked past the door out in the hallway would be able to hear the gasping wet gags of your throat with his every thrust into your mouth. Maybe the music was loud enough to conceal you. 

After a few more seconds, you were tapping out on his thigh and he loosened his grip on your hair so you could pull back with a messy cough, spit dripping down your chin and still connecting your lips to his cock as you blinked your teary eyes up at him. He wiped your mouth with his thumb and then slipped it past your lips, earning a pleasant moan of appreciation out of you and your eyes fluttered shut as you sucked on his thumb for a moment. 

George tisked from above you, “You’re fucking incredible.”

Daniel’s hands on your shoulders startled you slightly but he just leaned down and grabbed the bottom of your shirt to pull it up and over your head, leaving you in your bra and your jeans on your knees. George’s fingers fell into your hair again as you wrapped a hand around his cock and leaned in to happily swirl your tongue around the head while Daniel crouched behind you and reached around your waist to unbutton your jeans. 

“I think you deserve a turn now, sweetheart.” he cooed against your ear. 

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine and you pulled your mouth away from George to turn your head back towards your boyfriend situated behind you to meet him for a kiss. Daniel lifted a hand up to cradle your jaw as your lips locked in sloppy tongue-led kisses just like second nature, while your grip was still secure around George’s dick in front of you and you gave him a few gentle strokes. His hand was still in your hair and he stroked your head faintly as he watched the way you kissed your boyfriend right in front of him just like he had back upstairs at the party. But now he had the added bonus of your hand on him, touching him so perfectly in twisting tugs that had his bottom lip between his teeth, while his eyes drifted downwards to watch Daniel’s hand slip down the front of your unbuttoned jeans. 

Daniel groaned into your mouth, “You’re so fucking wet for us already, baby.”

You pulled away from your boyfriend’s lips with a withering moan only to peer right up at George above you as if to subconsciously see if he was watching you. Of course he was; dead focused on the disappearance of Daniel’s hand down your pants and the way your hips moved ever so slightly against his touch. Even as you succumbed to the pleasure of your boyfriend's touch, you couldn’t get enough of your handsome stranger as you leaned in to wrap your lips around his cock and suck on him lazily, letting him feel the sweet moans from your mouth right up against him.

“Wanna let me go down on you?” George asked with another rake of his fingers through your hair, “Is that alright?”

Daniel’s low chuckle from behind you had you pulling back from George’s cock, licking your lips as you peered up at him again and let your body mould against Daniel’s chest right behind you. Your head was spinning and you could hardly form a thought as your brain raced a mile a minute. 

“You wanna say yes so bad, don’t you?” Daniel taunted softly against your ear, that cocky smile on his face, “Say it. Then I can get you out of these pesky clothes and hold your fucking legs open for him. Do you want that?”

“Yes.” you breathed without tearing your eyes away from George’s face. 

“What was that?” George brushed the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, speaking to you in that warm voice of his that seemed to have perfected the art of feigning innocence although the weight behind his every word was very present, “Speak up.”

“Yes, please.” you repeated a little louder. 

Daniel helped you to your feet and then tugged your jeans down while George, too, got out of his pants that had lingered around his knees for the last little while. In only your bra and underwear - a nice set that you had meticulously packed and chosen for this exact moment with help from your boyfriend’s input - Daniel led you over to the window seat by your hand and he sat himself down first, right in the corner, and then hurried to pull off his plaid shirt and then his white t-shirt, tossing both to the growing pile on the carpeted floor. He patted his thigh and you turned to sit yourself down on his lap, a position quite familiar to you, and although the denim of his jeans was less than ideal compared to how the warmth of his skin against yours would have felt, you had alternate priorities at that moment. 

Sitting there on your boyfriend’s lap in the corner of the room, you had your first proper look at George’s naked body as he finished stripping completely and was making his way over to you. You shifted in place on Daniel’s lap and leaned back against his chest with a smile you couldn’t bite away, eyeing up the endless expanse of beautifully smooth caramel skin of the chiseled stranger in front of you. Between the sight of him in addition to the soft groan Daniel let out against your shoulder at your movements on his lap, you were already naturally spreading your legs at the ready. 

“Hang on,” Daniel mumbled, guiding you off him long enough for him to give up on his jeans and he shoved them down his thighs and kicked them to the floor before pulling you back down, “That’s better. You comfortable?” 

“Yeah.” you answered softly without tearing your eyes away from the man in front of you who resembled that of a Greek God. You licked your lips habitually at the sight of him and your hand slid down between your parted legs to rub yourself over your underwear for a moment, trying to ease that pesky ache. 

George nudged your hand away as he sank down to the floor in front of you, right between Daniel’s legs which were, ultimately, keeping your legs open too. With a gentle hand, George dragged two fingers along the fabric of your panties right down the center, and his eyebrows raised slightly at the feeling of how aroused you already were. 

“You’ve ruined these.” he exhaled, “Naughty girl.”

The way his accent sounded when he called you that had your head dropping back with a tight groan, definitely giving Daniel a facefull of your hair but he didn’t mind. Your boyfriend swiped your hair over your opposite shoulder so he could watch too, paying close attention to the way George’s large hands slid along your legs and how his lips ghosted over your inner thighs. You shivered on his lap and Daniel kissed your neck, trailing his fingers over your waist and up to your chest, playing with the lace of your bra that followed the curve of your breasts. 

Playing on George’s words, Daniel whispered against your ear, “Yeah, you’re our naughty little slut, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered as you succumbed to your intrusive thoughts and reached a hand down to rake through George’s soft brunette waves. 

Drawing his attention from the fleeting kisses he left over your thigh, his eyes raised to yours and he offered you a little wink from between your legs. He could tell you were antsy and he, himself, didn’t want to wait much longer either so he linked his fingers in the sides of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, watching carefully to see how the thin lace fabric stuck to your pussy for a moment thanks to the wetness you were leaking. 

Once your underwear was discarded to the floor, Daniel linked his hands under your thighs and spread your legs for you, so much so that you had to fall back against his chest to be able to sit comfortably. Your cheeks were flushed in slight nervousness over the fact that you were now spread open and vulnerable for a stranger but the liquid courage in your system helped to ease any slight embarrassment until it vanished the moment George got his hands on you. His soft caress of your pussy with two fingers was quickly followed by a ghostly kiss to your clit just before his tongue was dropping out to earn his first taste of you. 

You were already so sensitive that the first touch had your legs twitching from where Daniel held them and your soft squeak was almost completely involuntary. Despite your slight shyness, you couldn’t tear your attention away from the man between your legs, even as his big blue eyes raised to meet your gaze in time with another slow, teasing lick. Your hand was still in his hair and it only tightened its grip as you tried to pull him in for more, desperate for some sort of friction to soothe that ache. 

“Good girl, sweetheart.” Daniel cooed against your ear, “Not even shying away. Look at you pulling him in.”

George set his hands on the backs of your thighs as Daniel held them out of his way for him, holding himself between your legs as his tongue slid between your lips in slow, full licks that had your toes curling. Your impatient hum had George smiling against you for a moment until he dragged his tongue up to your clit and swirled around it tauntingly. 

“Fuck.” you whined, trying to nudge your hips up against his face. 

“Isn’t this my celebration?” George retorted cockily at your greedy move, his warm breath fanning across your wet cunt and the feeling made you shiver, “So we do things my way, yeah?”

You exhaled your muttered agreement, “Yeah.”

“Good girl.” he winked before moving back down to slip his tongue inside you. 

You groaned tightly as his nose bumped against your clit perfectly, just stimulating you enough to want more, and your fingers tightened in his hair to tug at it harder. The slight aggression from you had him moaning against your pussy and he pulled away just enough to spit loudly onto your glistening lips and make it messier. 

“It’s like he knows just what you like.” Daniel chuckled softly, his head right beside yours. He lifted his hand up to wrap around your throat to give you a bit of pressure as you both stared down at the pretty brunette between your legs. 

George’s eyes were all on you as if dead set on gauging your every slight reaction to his every slight movement, but his blinks were slower as he struggled to not shut his eyes and lose himself in you, instead letting his long lashes kiss his cheeks before opening up again. His tongue nudged inside you in purposeful motions and alternated with long licks right up to your clit and back down. He was taking in every inch of you with his mouth all without taking his eyes off of yours and it made you squirm. 

From your spot on Daniel’s lap and leaning against his chest, you could feel his dick against the small of your back and even though he was still wearing his boxers, you could feel how hard he was already. You were sandwiched between the two handsomest men in the world, you were sure, and you mouthed a silent ‘oh my God’ to the room at the realization of your reality. 

Daniel, with his hand still around your throat, guided your head back onto his shoulder so he could kiss your lips. Having the privilege of both kisses and oral at the same time was unheard of for you and it nearly sent shockwaves throughout your body, urging you to share your appreciation through pleasant moans into your boyfriend’s mouth. His tongue fought its way into your mouth between sloppy kisses and your free hand reached back to tug at the brunette curls at the nape of his neck to keep him where you wanted him. Your head was fucking spinning - although that may have been thanks to the sway of the yacht that only intensified the dizziness of your pleasure. 

Your breath was falling shallower by the second and forcing you to break away from Daniel’s lips, urging his face into your neck instead as he kissed over your flushed skin. George dragged his tongue right up to your clit and lapped at it gently, even the slightest touch having your legs try to close at the growing sensations. Daniel’s hands grabbed your thighs again and pulled them farther back, his fingertips pressing indentations into your flesh as he held you open for George’s tongue. 

“That’s it, baby.” Daniel praised against your cheek, “You’re doing so good for us.”

George pulled away from you just long enough to slip his middle finger in his mouth to wet it before teasing it across your pussy and finally sinking it inside you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared down between your spread legs to watch his slender finger disappear inside you just as his tongue met your clit again. You jolted at his touch, earning a warm chuckle out of him right up against your body and your head fell back against Daniel’s shoulder. 

“Sit nice and still for him.” Daniel warned you gently.

“It’s hard.” you whimpered. 

“Yeah?” Daniel cooed, “Feels really good, huh?”

As if appreciating your praise, George slowly added a second finger inside you and as he did so, your mouth dropped open with a soft gasp and you heaved your head up from Daniel’s shoulder to look down at him. He couldn’t stop staring at you as his tongue lapped at your clit and his fingers thrusted firmly inside you, reaching only about halfway just to try and find that perfect little spot. You dropped your hand from the back of Daniel’s neck to join your other in George’s hair, unable to hold back the tumbling of moans that spilled past your lips as you tugged at those heavenly soft brunette waves. 

He was a fucking prince and he certainly treated you like a queen, catering to your every need without even having to ask. You swore he was unreal, that he was some magnificent man written by the hand of a woman; that had to have been the only explanation to how he could make you see stars so effortlessly. 

The lewd wet sound of his tongue on you and his fingers nudging inside your dripping cunt paired beautifully with his low moan stemmed from your hands tugging at his hair, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in equal parts concentration and his own pleasure. The vibration from his mouth had you gasping and Daniel’s hands gripped your thighs harder to keep you spread wide as your muscles worked against him to try and close yourself up in overwhelm. It was hard to smother your whimpers through your bitten lip and part of you didn’t want to; ignorant to the memory of the party going on above you or the fact that anyone could be walking by the room to locate the bathroom at any given moment. Your priorities were far away from what was deemed socially acceptable as guests on this yacht and amongst this group of wealthy and illustrious individuals. 

Writhing on Daniel’s lap and against George’s mouth, you arched against your boyfriend’s shoulder and pleaded to the air softly, “Can I cum?” 

“That’s up to our podium winner here. He decides when you cum tonight.” Daniel told you. 

George didn’t correct him on the technicality that he wasn’t actually the winner because in that moment it sure fucking felt like he might have been. 

Keeping his fingers moving at that consistently strong pace, he answered you softly right up against your pussy, his hot breath fanning against your slick skin and his words muffled slightly by your body, “Yeah, you can cum for me, darling.”

Your fingers tugged at his hair to keep his face between your spread legs, your chin held down to your chest as you desperately chased that taunting orgasm that was building inside you quickly. If you had any care at that moment, you were sure you would have looked ridiculous in such a position with your face screwed up in pure pleasure, but all that mattered to you in that moment was doing anything that would get you over those blissful waves. George was certainly making it easy as he didn’t dare move from his spot, keeping his two fingers right where you wanted them and his tongue flicked mercilessly at your swollen clit until he could feel you start to clench around his fingers. 

“Mhm.” he mumbled against you encouragingly, staring up at your flushed face and gaping mouth. 

“That’s my girl.” Daniel praised from beside you, “Show him what a good fucking girl you are and cum all over his fucking face.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-” you squealed, letting yourself stumble out nonsense as that burning tight pleasure grew hotter and hotter. 

And the feeling burst inside you like a pop of champagne and your head tossed back against Daniel’s shoulder with a strangled cry, eyes screwed shut, fingers locked in a white-knuckled grip in George’s soft hair as you creamed around his slender fingers. He licked up everything you offered him right through your orgasm, moaning greedily against you as his tongue joined his fingers and he worked you through it, all while your boyfriend praised you strongly against your ear in filthy words you could hardly even make sense of in such a state. Your legs trembled from where Daniel held them out, nearly vibrating, and you whimpered loudly to the ceiling with ears ringing faintly from the sudden intensity of it. 

“Holy shit.” you gasped out of it. You took a hand from George’s hair to push through your own to get the messy strands out of your face and wipe your eyes that were brimming with unshed tears.

“Good girl, baby.” Daniel kissed your neck, gently setting your legs down to he could wrap his arms around your middle as he trailed kisses over your skin, “That was so fucking hot.”

From between your legs, George pulled his fingers out of you and slipped them into his mouth to suck clean for a moment before turning his head to press a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, followed by another alongside a soft groan as he spoke up to you, “You taste incredible.”

“Doesn’t she?” Daniel boasted with a proud smirk. 

George leaned in for one more gentle lick at your swollen pussy and one more wet kiss - your body flinching with a soft whine in oversensitivity at his fleeting touches - before he was standing up in front of you, taking a second to wipe his glistening mouth before holding out his hand towards you, “Come on. I’m not quite done with you yet.”

You wouldn’t dream of declining him and you set your hand in his and let him help you off Daniel’s lap before leading you over to the bed. You took the initiative to turn yourself around and sit on the edge of the mattress before scooting back a little, reaching to grab George by the back of his neck to pull him after you. He followed your insistent lead to lock your lips in a well deserved kiss as he blindly followed you onto the bed until you were both situated near the middle. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, the undertones of possession setting your mind ablaze as you moaned into his mouth and your body tried to arch against him. But from where he was positioned half beside you and half in front of you, touching wasn’t all that simple. 

Instead, George pulled away from your lips to move his kisses down your neck and over your collarbones while one hand slid behind your back to unclip your bra and toss it to the floor. You were pleasantly surprised at his secret skill of undoing it blind and one-handed and you glanced past him to Daniel still sitting where you had left him in the corner of the window seat, sharing silent impressed glances. George’s mouth on your breasts had your mouth falling open and your attention pulling back to him instead of your boyfriend, giving him a pleasant groan as he licked and sucked over one of your nipples while the other was tended to by his fingers. 

“Oh my God, you’re perfect.” you exhaled shakily, sliding your fingers into the back of his messy brunette waves.

He laughed ever so faintly in response as he switched over to your other breast, covering you in wet kisses before taking your nipple in his mouth again. Your head fell backwards with a moan to the ceiling, having already come once but still wanting more from him. 

George didn’t make you wait much longer as he pulled away from your breast with a soft pop and then smoothly leaned in towards your lips. Your tongues met first as your heads tilted naturally to lead you into filthy kisses, probably swapping too much spit in the process but by that point in the night you were well past acquainted. You barely had moved your hands to cradle his face in your palms when he was pulling away again and sitting back from you on his knees. 

“Turn around for me, love.”

It was almost embarrassing how easy you flipped yourself around onto your hands and knees at his simple request. You often found it fun to push Daniel’s buttons and purposefully ignore his demands but, with George, his voice held this power over you that had you succumbing to his every wish effortlessly. Without being asked, you bent forward at the waist to rest your forearms on the bed and leave your ass up for him, giving him a little taunting wiggle. 

His warm hand caressed the curve of your ass and he asked warmly, “Can I spank you?” 

“Yeah.” you answered, “Only if you hit me hard though.”

As if in reply to your rule, George’s hand came down hard against your flesh, the sharp sound nearly echoing through the modest bedroom, and he followed it up with a taunting, “Naughty girl.”

You turned your head to the left to be able to see your boyfriend a few paces away, still lounged back in the corner of the window seat with his underwear pushed down just enough to get his cock out and his hand was already gently stroking himself. He licked his lips at the sight of you catching his eye and, as if more than willing to put on a show for him, you threw a request back to George, “Spank me again.”

“Yeah?” he smacked his hand down against one cheek and then the other, his strength apparent by the impact and the tingling sensation his palm left behind across your flesh. “You really are a slut, hm?”

“And I’m your slut tonight, sir.” you answered playfully, wiggling your ass back against him to earn you another spank. 

Hearing you using his title to address another man had Daniel’s eyebrows furrowing slightly as he watched the scene in front of him unfold but he didn’t intervene. You could tell it got to him slightly by the way he shifted on the window seat and you licked away your sly grin, glancing over your shoulder at George behind you. He reached over to grab your cheeks in his hand and he leaned over you to kiss your lips, pressing right up close to you and you could feel his hard cock right up against your sensitive pussy. 

“Holy shit.” you groaned into his kisses, breathless as he broke away from you. 

“Do you have a condom with you?” George asked the both of you. 

In all honesty, out of all your meticulous preparation, it had slipped your mind, and you looked over at Daniel with wide eyes in realization. He looked just as startled for a moment before turning it back to you, 

“Your choice, sweetheart.”

You could only grin before directing to George, “We don’t…but you can just pull out. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh, blimey-” George was clearly taken aback by your statement for a moment, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure.” you assured him easily. 

He looked over at Daniel as if needed reassurance from him that it was okay that he fucked his girlfriend raw, but Daniel just tilted his head up slightly with a casual, “Go on; fuck her brains out.”

Your soft giggle had George looking at you again, bent over at the waist in front of him and so ready and willing. You were sure you never craved something more in your life; you had already come once but you wanted to feel all of him and really make the most out of your once-in-a-lifetime weekend plan. The feeling of his firm hands caressing over your ass again before giving you another passing spank had you whining impatiently. He then carefully dragged the head of his cock between your legs, slipping across your slick cunt and teasing you cruelly, just to watch how your body shuttered in anticipation for him. 

“I want to hear you say it.” he ordered softly, his low voice thick with lust.

“Fuck me.” you pleaded sweetly in a gentle whisper, all too focused on his every taunting move behind you and every slight dip of the mattress. 

“Louder.” George insisted, tapping his dick against your cunt just to hear the filthy wet slaps from how fucking wet you were. You could feel it dripping down your legs and you just wanted him to scoop it up and fuck it back into you, dammit.

With a huff, you tried again, “Please fuck me.”

“I still couldn’t quite hear that.” he tutted, his voice smooth and gentle in that angelic accent of his but the undertones of sterness were apparent, as if he had a demand to be heard and obeyed, “Come, now. Use your words.”

“My God, you’re cocky.” you mumbled weakly towards the sheets despite the lingering smile across your lips at that fact before giving into his demand with a firmly spoken, “Please can you fuck me?”

“Of course.” he cooed, running his palm up your spine and then back down as his other hand angled the tip of his cock right against your pussy, “You simply had to ask.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to offer any sort of witty rebuttal as he took that moment to sink inside you slowly. Your expression fluttered along that perfect balance of pain and pleasure and your fingers grasped onto the tightly pulled duvet to clutch some of the fabric desperately. The whimper that fell from your lips had George hushing you warmly as his hands took to your hips and he gave you a little squeeze as he pushed deeper inside you so cautiously. 

“Good girl. This what you wanted?” he purred. 

“Yeah.” you exhaled, “Thank you, sir.”

Across the room, Daniel watched with a firm stare as this stranger filled you up and received the privilege of that filthy title that was usually meant only for him. Daniel never pinned himself to be an insecure man and it was this fact that led him to understand his comfort for allowing a weekend plan like this to happen. Even in a moment like this, watching you be taken by another man right in front of him, he was unfazed. Your words were spoken out of habitual pleasure and your needs were nothing more than physical desire. Your heart still belonged entirely to him. It was his bed you were falling into at the end of every night. He was the one who could fuck you whenever he pleased - no strategic plan necessary. Yeah, George was the winner that night but Daniel knew he was the winner every night solely for the fact that he was the one who had you. 

That fact was only solidified the moment your eyes locked on his from across the room, always finding him at any given moment, wanting to stare at him even as you were about to be fucked by another man. It was a whole new angle for Daniel and one he couldn’t seem to get enough of. He shifted on the window seat to push his boxers all the way off before lounging back against the cushions and he spit in his palm to help stroke his dick a little easier. 

George, with his hands grabbing your hips, had filled you completely, stalling a moment with his cock buried entirely inside you and able to feel every last inch of your body hugging him so tightly. The angelic moan you let out as he bottomed out had his expression furrowing for a second as he forced himself to hold back for a moment, hands squeezing your hips to keep your ass right up against his body so there was absolutely no space between you. The gentle rocking of the yacht seemed to help get in started, pulling out of you only about halfway before easing into you again, finding a slow pace to get you used to him. You definitely appreciated that since he was entirely different from Daniel and your inexperience that came from your lack of quantity of lovers had you still slightly hesitant. 

But it wasn’t long at all before you were easing into the feeling with your body starting to accommodate him a little better, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip without tearing your eyes away from your boyfriend who was lazily stroking his cock and watching you both so intently. You started to push your ass back into George’s motions to meet him halfway, giving enough strength to start to have your sweaty skin clap together with each movement, and he groaned lowly with a two handed squeeze of your ass, punctuating it with a sharp spank to one of your cheeks. 

“Yes.” you breathed dreamily, “Gimme more.”

“Naughty girl.” George taunted, giving you another spank as he started to thrust into you faster. 

You squealed lightly at the growing intensity and tightened your grip on the sheets beneath you, letting yourself moan for him freely with your lip still captured by your teeth. It still wasn’t enough and you kept pushing back on him at that same pace to try and get him going. 

“More.” you insisted, looking back at him over your shoulder, “Fuck me hard.” 

Speaking up from across the room, your boyfriend guided him, “Pull her hair, bro. Do what you want to her.”

“Yeah,” you giggled in agreement, “this is your night.”

“Jesus Christ.” George exhaled in near shock before helping himself to a fistful of your hair. He gathered all of it in his grasp and then gave it a sharp tug, forcing a pleasant smiling moan from your chest. 

“Fuck, yeah.” you beamed. 

“Yeah?” he right away picked up the pace again, thrusting into you harder now just as you so obviously begged for, with his hand holding tightly to your hair. 

The muted music from the party on the deck above was obsolete as your attention was all focused on the lewd slap of his skin against yours with every quick snap of his hips against your ass. His free hand came down hard on your flesh again and you cried out for him pleasantly. You rose up onto your hands flat against the mattress just to feel him pull at your hair until your head was forced to tilt up towards the ceiling. 

“Oh my God, yes.” you moaned shakily as your knees spread a little wider just to make sure he was getting as deep as he could go. You were already getting dizzy from it, tears burning your eyes from how good it felt to be a little roughed up by this handsome stranger you had been ogling all weekend, and the way your knuckles were turning white as you gripped the duvet underneath you was proof enough of that fact. The whimpers and moans that tumbled from your lips were almost involuntary as it were nothing but your body’s natural honest reaction to the way he could make you feel but you still encouraged him with a pitchy, “Please don’t stop!”

“Naughty girl.” George spoke down to you firmly without breaking his pace, spanking you hard again so the sound nearly echoed across the modest bedroom, “Naughty fucking girl.”

His large hand groped your ass and tugged at your flesh as if to open you up some more, his eyes focused right down to where you were connected to watch how his cock disappeared entirely inside you over and over again. Licking and biting his lips under prettily furrowed brows, he couldn’t help the soft groans of his own pleasure, especially watching how you absolutely coated him in your creamy wetness with every thrust. He made sure to keep that snug grip on your hair all the same, almost using it to pull you back into his rough motions because that seemed to get the best reaction out of you. 

“God, look at you taking it so well.” Daniel spoke from across the room.

You could only offer a pleading “uh huh” in reply, your sounds almost constricted by the way your head was forced back. 

Daniel tisked, “My pretty little whore gets so fucking cock drunk…you can’t even form words anymore.”

With your hair pulled so snugly, you couldn’t turn to look at Daniel sitting across the room as much as you might have wanted to. It wasn’t nothing you hadn’t seen before, however, all too familiar with the image of him sitting in the nude with his cock in his hand, stroking himself off with his eyes fixated on you. You never minded him staring at you and you never minded putting on a little show for him to get that attention from him; this was no different. It was a new experience for the both of you but as initial nervousness had easily melted away, all the way left was pure erotic pleasure in the both of you and connecting you from across the room. 

George’s hand in your hand pulled a little harder and you followed his wordless demand to get you up on your knees in front of him so your back was almost to his front and his hand let go of your hair to wrap around your throat as his lips met your neck. Your eyes rolled through your pleasant moan, reaching a hand behind you dumbly to try and grasp his waist as he kept his rough thrusts into you, stuffing you entirely full until the heat of it all was rushing right through your body and raising a tasteful sweat to your skin. His other hand drifted from your waist around your front to easily find your clit and his middle finger tugged greedy circles over the sensitive bud, earning a choked whimper from your throat. 

“Yeah, that’s good, isn’t it?” he taunted against your ear, holding your body tightly against his as he had his way with you, telling you honestly in that warm rich voice of his, “You’re a fucking treat.”

You couldn’t even manage to string a reply together, only proving yourself to be embarrassingly agreeable with Daniel’s prior jab towards you, and all you could do was nod dumbly to the wall ahead of you with that view of sparkling Monaco in the distance. It was unreal. Between the way he fucked you and his hand on your already sensitive clit, he was drawing you closer and closer to another orgasm and although you couldn’t find the words to express it, it was glaringly obvious by the way your whimpers grew pitchier and your pussy squeezed tighter around him.

The way you were suddenly released from his arms and naturally dropped forward onto your hands on the mattress again startled you slightly but you barely had a second to process the change and the dwindling coil of pleasure inside you before George was pulling out of you completely as he grabbed your arm and flipped you over onto your back. It was his obvious assertion that had you gaping up at him as you were suddenly face to face again, your hands flying above your head to fist the duvet as he grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs open in a wide v-shape so he could lean down and spit loudly onto your pussy before straightening back up above you like a God. 

“I decide when you cum, yeah?” he reminded you as his eyes locked on yours along with the demanding slip of his cock back inside you all the way. His eyebrows raised in time with your tight gasp at the return of that sudden stretch and his hand wrapped around your throat just as he began to fuck you again. 

You nodded quickly with a whimper, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah.” he exhaled strongly, guiding your left leg up to his shoulder before returning his hand to the back of your right knee to keep your legs spread wide, “You look like a fucking goddess. Don’t stop looking at me.”

As if you were in some sort of trance, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to look away from him even if you tried. His hand around your neck and pinning you down to the mattress certainly helped; you wouldn’t have had it any other way. It almost felt like a wet dream that was too good to be true from just the sight of this handsome stranger above you, having a front row seat to the sight of his messy light brown waves flopping over his forehead in time with his rough thrusts into your pliant body and the expression of firm lust across his features that found home in his big stormy blue eyes. 

The room was filled with the lewd sound of your shared breaths and soft moans, paired so filthily with the steady clap of your sweaty skin colliding in some consistent rhythm. His hand was so big around your throat that he could move his index finger up to slip into your mouth and, almost as if by natural instinct, you gladly sucked on it without breaking his eye contact. You wanted to lift your head up to watch how he fucked you but he gripped harder to your throat, pinning you down, even as you spit rolled down the side of his finger and over the back of his hand. 

“Keep looking at me, love.” he ordered firmly. “Wanna see you turn into a fucking mess for me.”

But Daniel had alternate plans as his shadow appeared above you as he stood at the opposite side of the bed where your head was and he grabbed your biceps to yank you closer to the edge. George accommodated his move with grace as he just shuffled after you and slipped back inside you, filling you right up again with a handsome groan, still holding your leg out to the side so you could take all of him. 

With your head hanging off the side of the bed just slightly, Daniel tapped the head of his cock against your swollen lips and you didn’t need to be instructed before you were opening your mouth for him. He praised you lowly as he carefully slid in against your tongue, moving slowly but surely until his balls nudged against your nose and you gagged lightly around him. 

“Christ.” George groaned at the sight of your throat bulging slightly from the shape of Daniel dick helping itself to your body, and he slowly started up his thrusts again without tearing his eyes away from you. 

Now you couldn’t see either of them at that angle, simply trusting them enough to use you how they needed from both ends. Daniel’s cock thrusting gently into your throat was forcing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as you choked on him but George fucking you at just the right angle had you nearly sobbing with pleasure. So much so that you had to reach up to press a hand to Daniel’s abs to get him to let up and pull out of your mouth so you could cough up a pitchy moan and heave your head up to watch George’s cock pistoning addictingly inside you.

“Feels so good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” Daniel cooed, stroking his dick right beside your face as he, too, was watching the scene unfold intently. 

“Uh huh.” you whimpered, eyes raising to George’s face, only to find him already staring at you. 

Your expression directed up at him had his jaw visibly clenching and his grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you in place as he kept his rough pace going. Daniel’s dick poked against your cheek from how close he was standing, smearing a bit of precum across your flushed skin, and you naturally turned your head towards him to guide him into your mouth with a greedy hand. He set his hand under your head to help keep you supported as you sucked on him and you moaned around him from the way George was fucking you so deliciously. 

“I want you to cum for me now.” George ordered down to you, yanking you towards him a little more to make sure your head was back on the bed, all without faltering his strokes into your sopping body. “Think you can do that for me, gorgeous?”

You pulled away from Daniel with a string of spit still connecting you, answering him with a weak, “Please.”

He took his hand from your leg that was resting up on his shoulder just enough to lick the pad of his thumb so he could drop it down to rub at your clit, letting his palm and fingers apply a bit of pressure to your lower abdomen at the same time. You literally flinched under his touch, back arching off the bed slightly as your legs threatened to curl inwards. George was firm in his grasp as he kept your one leg held outward no matter how much you struggled against him, his eyes nearly unblinking as he stared at your face like he didn’t want to miss a second of your reaction to him. 

“Harder,” you squeaked, desperate for more of that hint of growing tight pleasure inside you as your fingers slammed down against the mattress on either side of you to grab tightly to the sheets, “please, harder.”

“Naughty girl.” he spoke down to you but complied, quite literally pounding you into the bed that you swore the rock of the yacht might have been influenced by it. His thumb on your clit was just as quick, his spit mixing in with the slick of your pussy to have him gliding effortlessly over your most sensitive spot that was nearly throbbing with need. 

“Yes,” you whimpered, forcing yourself to stare down your body to watch him touch you, fuck you, have you just the way you liked it in a way you never expected for your reckless weekend plan, “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-”

Daniel still stood right beside you, pumping his cock faster as he kept his gaze flicking between your face and how this handsome stranger fucked you in a way only he had before. You were quite literally dizzy from pleasure, almost frightened by how quickly your body was ramping you up to your second orgasm of the night, but the presence of Daniel right there beside you was comforting. 

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you cried out, face scrunching up as it just kept building, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“That’s it,” Daniel praised lowly down to you, the slick sound of his hand on his cock only enhancing your senses, “Give into it. Cum for him, darling. Give him what he wants.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” you sobbed, teetering right on the edge, drowning in overwhelm. 

“Yes, you can.” George insisted firmly without stopping, his words strained behind his slight breathlessness, “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes to open and focus on him, already squeezing around him at the sight of his pretty face, especially seeing him so sweaty and ruined by you. He licked his lips dreamily before speaking again, in that beautiful rich accent of his that seemed to have captivated a piece of your soul, 

“You’re gonna cum for me. You said this is for me and I want you to cum right now. Okay? It’s my fucking day and you’re my fucking toy and you’re gonna do what I say and cum all over my cock. Isn’t that right, naughty girl?”

The first slight pulse of your cunt around him had a small smirk pricking the corner of his mouth and you didn’t dare to tear your eyes away from his as he kept you going with more pretty words, 

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby. Come on, come on, come on, gimme it,”

It hit you hard, forcing your head to drop back against the bed with a choked sob to the ceiling as your vision almost went black, fingers pulling hard at the sheets and nearly untucking them from the sides of the mattress in the process, legs trembling from where he held them splayed, and the intense grip of your innermost muscles around him had him groaning deeply as he fucked you through it. 

“Good girl.” George praised loudly, “Fuck me, that’s it-”

He lasted as long as he could inside you until he was pulling out and taking his hand from your clit to stroke himself off instead, only needing a few pumps before he was coming right up your stomach in thick white spurts. His moans were as angelic as his voice as he claimed you up in pretty ribbons up to your navel and it dripped down his hand as his orgasm tapered off. 

“Holy fuck.” Daniel groaned from beside you, interrupting your silent gaping towards George with his hand in your hair and he pulled your head in. You barely got your mouth around him before he was coming too, blessing your ears with those pretty moans you knew all too well as he came across your tongue and down your throat. Having been unprepared, you choked around him slightly but took it all, knowing it was better than making a mess on the bed or your makeup.  

When he was done and you pulled away from him with a spitty gasp before swallowing, he then leaned right down to kiss you, hand cradling your jaw to lead you through a few sloppy kisses. The moment you separated, George’s fingers were on your lips and you let him slip them into your mouth, gladly cleaning them off for him with the salty taste of cum grazing your tongue thanks to the both of them. 

“You okay?” Daniel asked you softly with a pet to your hair. 

George took his fingers from your mouth and you nodded, assuring them both with a breathless, “Yeah. Fuck, I’m so good.”

The two young men chuckled softly in agreement and George gently put your quivering legs down on the mattress before shifting off the bed. 

“I’ll get you a towel.” he announced before disappearing through the door beside the bed that led to the small ensuite bathroom. 

In his absence, you forced yourself into a sitting position and Daniel sat on the side of the bed beside you, both of you facing opposite directions but able to look at each other easily that way. He pet your hair out of your face and leaned in to kiss your lips softly once, twice, and then you rested your head on his shoulder with a blissful smile. 

“How was that?” he asked quietly into your hair. 

“Loved it.” you whispered. “Love you.”

Daniel smiled and reached a hand up to pet your hair again, “Me too. I love you too. You were so fucking good.”

George returned with a damp face cloth and he knelt on the bed again so he could reach you comfortably and he wiped up his mess from your stomach like a true gentleman. You stared at him intently as he cleaned you up and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your fingers through his hair, asking him bluntly, “How does your hair still look incredible?”

His soft chuckle was warm and low and his smile was infectious to you as he sat back from you, “I doubt it’s still incredible after your hands were tugging on it for a while there.”

Your fingers trailed out of his hair and down the side of his face, tracing his sharp jawline until you ghosted across his lips, licking your own habitually, and he hesitated only a moment before leaning in to kiss you. Giddy thanks to this handsome stranger, you smiled bashfully into it, and only a few seconds later he was pulling away and sharing in your soft smile before he moved to toss the cloth into the bathroom sink. 

Daniel kissed your shoulder before asking the both of you as he stood up from the mattress, “You think we should get dressed and get back up there before people wonder where we are?”

“Probably.” George answered, walking around to the end of the bed so he could grab his underwear to put on. 

You stayed on the bed for a little longer to catch your breath and took that moment to watch the two of them get dressed before Daniel brought over your clothes for you. You thanked him with a kiss and he helped you get up. You seriously needed to lean on his arm as the combination of your trembling legs and the sway of the yacht had you stumbling and, the three of you still slightly tipsy, shared light laughter. George came over to offer his hand for you to hold for stability while Daniel crouched down to help dress you himself. 

Once you were all dressed and you had each made sure you still looked somewhat presentable in the bathroom mirror - you needing to wipe the smudged makeup from around your eyes first - you made your escape back to the party. George led the way again, peeking out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before slipping out of the bedroom with you and Daniel close behind. Daniel shut the bedroom door after you and he took your hand as you followed George right up the steep staircase. 

Of course, your legs were still quite wobbly and as the boat rocked beneath you, you ended up half stumbling and nearly falling on George in front of you in the process. He stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to you as the three of you bursting into quiet giggles and they both helped you up again as if you were scaling a mountain together. 

Since everyone at the party was quite intoxicated by then, your sudden ascension of the stairs right into the main space of the yacht went genuinely unnoticed and you melted right into the group with ease. You located Tabitha and Corbyn with ease near the rear of the yacht overlooking the dark ocean water surrounding you, talking with Charles and Pierre as well as Alex and his girlfriend. Tabitha noticed you first, giving you a lingering glance as you and Daniel approached hand in hand, George trailing behind casually. 

“There you are.” Corbyn greeted you with a smile, his hand resting on the railing of the yacht behind Tabitha, “Where were you guys?” 

“Just around.” Daniel answered casually as the circle shifted to welcome you three in. 

You found your spot together between Pierre and Corbyn while George took to the other side of the little group between Alex and Charles. Daniel then took his hand out of yours to slide into the back pocket of your jeans instead and you stepped closer to his side and tucked your arm around his back in response, definitely overthinking how you were supposed to act in order to appear normal. 

Alex sipped his drink and eyed George silently for a brief moment but you were sure that you were in the clear. Everyone seemed perfectly clueless, and your slight PDA with Daniel didn’t seem anything more than your usual drunken infatuation, the flush of your cheeks easily excusable as a result of the alcohol. Alex and Tabitha were looking at you like they expected more details of what you were up to in your absence but thankfully Charles went back to whatever story he was sharing and the attention shifted. 

It was hard for you to focus on what he was saying when you were still buzzing with those glorious pleasure hormones and you were finding it difficult to keep your smile at bay. George kept glancing at you from across the circle, always having to keep looking away because one look at your obvious grin was making him start to smirk too. You couldn’t afford to have your cover blown. It was set to be the dirty little secret between the three of you. 

In the early, early hours of the morning - some time around 3am - the yacht returned to the harbour and the mess of drunken professional drivers all stumbled out onto the pier to head home. Taxis and Ubers were called and there was a chaotic mess of intoxicated hugs and noisy goodbyes shared as people started to part ways. Corbyn and Tabitha stayed close to you and Daniel since you four were heading back to Corbyn’s together although part of you wished you had a bit of distance so you could have a proper, private goodbye with a certain handsome stranger. 

Regardless, he still went in for the hug and you held onto each other probably a beat longer than real strangers would have. He gave your back a little rub and spoke to you as quietly as his drunk self could manage, “Thanks for such a memorable night.”

You giggled into his neck to try and hide your blushing smile, hands grasping onto the back of his soft expensive cardigan for a moment, replying sweetly, “You too. Get home safely.”

He pulled away from you and kissed your right cheek and then your other, half startling you, but no one seemed to bat an eye and in a second he was moving to Daniel to share a fist bump and knowing smiles with their casual ‘good night’s. And then, you watched him get into his taxi and shut the door without a look back and then he disappeared towards the winding late night streets of Monaco. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about George for the rest of the night and well into the next day. You dreamt about him once your head hit the pillow that night - reliving your experience on the yacht in cloud-like detail - and you opened your hungover eyes in Corbyn’s guest room at nearly noon, tucked up in Daniel’s arms, with the memory of it all fresh on your mind. As you dragged yourselves out of bed to get ready for the day and even throughout brunch with your gracious hosts, your thoughts kept straying to wonder what George was up to and if you were going to be able to run into him again before you had to leave Monaco after only a few more days. 

As Corbyn and Daniel took the responsibility of cleaning the kitchen, leaving you and Tabitha to hangout in the living room for a bit, you finally had enough of a distraction to stray you from the thought of George as you admired Corbyn’s shelves of trophies from throughout his career that lined the living room wall. Tabitha offered a few tidbits of information to you about some of them and you listened politely, trying to follow some of the lingo she was saying without making yourself look too much like an idiot. There was only so much to discuss at the trophy display so you eventually sat on the couch together and she asked you a few questions about how you enjoyed the party the night before and you made some lighthearted jokes about your underlying hangover you were nursing. She seemed insistent to know more about you and your night but to keep from having to spill your secret, you found a distraction in the album on the coffee table beside you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have just gone snooping through Corbyn’s things - especially with a title as personal as ‘Our Story’ that was written in curling calligraphy on the cover - but it was out in the open so you were sure it was fine. Tabitha didn’t stop you. Of course, what you had anticipated to be a good distraction, ended up being the opposite as the first page of the homemade photo album housed an image of a younger Corbyn, Lando, Alex, and George with their arms thrown around each other in a line up, each donning a different race suit. Underneath read The Rookies - FP1, Australia, March 2019 in neat printing. You stared at the picture and the younger, rounder face of George smiling back at you, trying not to think about the horribly sinful things that same young man did to you not even 24-hours prior. 

Tabitha had asked you something, or maybe she had just said something about the album in passing, but you didn’t hear her at first until you finally looked back over at her to find her staring expectantly at you. 

“Huh? Sorry.” you cleared your throat and closed the album before sitting back on the couch like you were touching something you weren’t supposed to. 

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly at your startled reaction but she played it off with a gesture to the coffee table and a, “You can keep looking through it. It’s not a secret. Just a summary of Corbyn’s F1 career and a bit of him and me getting to where we are today. I gave it to him for his birthday two years ago.”

“Aw,” you glanced back at the book, “that’s cute.”

“Here,” she picked it up from the table and rested back against the couch with it, “let me show you the best parts.”

You leaned comfortably into the couch beside her and let her walk you through a few of the best photographs, all taken by her. It wasn’t long before Daniel and Corbyn joined you from the kitchen and Corbyn was holding his phone up as he called out to his girlfriend to drag her attention away from the album. 

“Charles texted,” he said, “He’s having a little get-together at his place tonight. Did you want to go?”

“Another party?” she peaked a brow at him. 

“Just a lowkey thing.” Corbyn assured her with a chuckle. “Looks like just Pierre is going over so far. Then us. Maybe Lando if we wanted to bring him along too?”

Tabitha looked at you, “Did you want to go?”

“Yeah, sure, it sounds nice.” you smiled in agreement.

“Okay. I’ll text Lando to invite him too.” she grabbed her phone from the table. 

Part of you was hoping she would catch onto your telepathic girl-message to request her to extend the invite to George too but maybe you hadn’t known each other long enough for that to work. All you got in response to your silence was her acknowledgement that Lando was going to join the group at Charles’. You frowned but didn’t push anything. God forbid you made yourself look suspicious. 

Charles lived in a nice apartment building farther into the core of Monaco, right amidst the hustle and bustle of it all, and Corbyn pulled his car into the two-car garage using the passcode he knew well by then, parking beside Charles’ sleek black Ferrari. You eyed the red and white stripes that stretched up the hood of the car as you followed Corbyn towards the entrance of the building. The lifestyle of these young men was nothing you had ever had the privilege of witnessing before. 

Although spacious, Charles’ apartment was quite modest compared to what you were expecting but hints of luxury were present in the real hardwood herringbone floors and the high scale appliances and furniture. Right away, Daniel was admiring the white upright grand piano by the window the moment you walked in and he slid over to it with his hands held behind his back to force himself not to touch it without permission. 

“This is beautiful.” Daniel complimented to your host as Corbyn and Tabitha headed into the adjacent living room to greet Pierre who was relaxing on the sofa. “I didn’t know you were into music. Do you play?”

“Thank you.” Charles smiled as he joined you and Daniel at the piano, “We used to have a piano when I was younger and my younger brother was spending hours and hours on it so I didn’t have really much time to play piano. But I always loved listening to him. Then a few years ago, when I had a bit of free time, I get a bit of time on the piano and actually learn and I love it. It’s a time where I can actually relax and disconnect from racing and everything that is around.”

“That’s amazing.” Daniel said honestly, “Piano is definitely my favourite. It really is an escape for me too. Corbyn and I actually met in music class in school.”

“Yes, he told me.” Charles said, “He plays too, a little.”

“Yeah.” Daniel glanced into the living room and then back to Charles, lowering his voice to add a cheeky, “Just not as good as me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Charles laughed. 

Daniel then glanced at you with a nod to the piano in front of the three of you, requesting, “Add this to my Christmas list.”

You laughed humorlessly, teasing him truthfully, “For who? Me? I can hardly afford to breathe next to it.”

“Well then steal this one.” Charles joked, but hurriedly followed it with a lighthearted, “Just kidding. Just kidding.”

“I think even if we tried, the oversized baggage fee to get it home would cost more than buying a new piano.” you countered.

The two men laughed in agreement, all without taking their eyes off the sleek white instrument. 

Charles gestured to it, offering to Daniel, “Would you like to play?”

Daniel’s eyes widened, “Can I? I’d love to.”

“Yes, of course.” Charles nodded him on. 

Daniel nearly looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he sat himself down on the matching white wood piano bench and Charles lifted up the fallboard to reveal the pristine black and white keys. Daniel rubbed his hands together and then gently set his fingers on the keys, finding his spot, before pressing them down to begin to play. He began one of his original songs - one that he had written for you - and you smiled softly at him from your spot at his side, watching his focused face as his fingers danced over the keys. 

Suddenly, Corbyn was beside you and scolding his best friend with a teasing, “Hey, that’s my spot.” 

Daniel scooted over, “Duet with me, bro.”

“Oh, duet?” Charles crossed his arms over his chest in amusement, “Let’s see that.”

You left the three of them to their piano symphonies and you joined Tabitha and Pierre in the living room, placing yourself on the white couch with them as they chatted casually. You admired the view through the open blinds that revealed a breathtaking view of Monte Carlo and, in the distance, sparkles of crystal blue water, before skimming the room to familiarize yourself with the unfamiliar apartment. Like Corbyn, Charles had a display of his trophies along one wall along with a few race helmets and framed photographs from throughout his career and you smiled fondly at the few of little Charles from his racing days posing with people you didn’t recognize. 

The ring of the doorbell had Charles leaving Corbyn and Daniel to their lighthearted bickering at the piano to welcome in the last of your group. Lando appeared in the living room doorway with two shopping bags that he placed on the coffee table as he greeted everyone cheerfully. 

“What’s all in there?” Tabitha asked, leaning forward from her spot on the couch to try and see in. 

“Nothing for you since it’s all alcohol.” he announced proudly, well accustomed to her sobriety, and he lifted two new bottles of vodka out of the bags to show off, “I woke up with a fucking killer hangover this morning but, you know what I say: the best cure for a hangover is to just drink more!”

“Oh my God.” Pierre laughed from Tabitha’s other side, shaking his head in amusement at the ridiculous declaration. 

“Dude,” Tabitha sighed, “you’re going to kill your liver.”

“Yeah, well…YOLO.” Lando said in a singsong voice before setting the bottles on the coffee table and starting to unload the rest of them from the bags. Six glass bottles of clear liquor stood in a line on the table and he tossed the empty bags underneath it recklessly, setting his hands on his hips proudly at his little display. 

You, Tabitha, and Pierre stared at him pointedly. 

Suddenly, he clapped his hands together and turned in the direction of the piano, calling out, “Hey, Charles, where are your shot glasses?”

“Shots again?” Charles appeared in the archway, “I’m still ill from last night.”

“Yeah!” Lando brushed past him with a skip in his step, announcing over his shoulder, “Come on, you better show me the way or else I’ll start helping myself to your cupboards!”

“Oh my gosh.” you laughed into your hand over the messy notes from the piano from the next room, glancing over at the other two startled friends on the couch with you. 

“Who invited him?” Pierre chuckled to you and Tabitha from her other side.

Tabitha sighed, “I think I have to take responsibility for that.”

You smiled, “That’s okay. He’s the life of the party.”

“That is some way to put it.” Pierre scoffed with a smile of his own.

The three of you entertained yourselves in the living room with modest conversation and you got to know Pierre a bit better and he shared a few childhood stories of himself and Charles - some that were encapsulated in frames on the shelves beside the couch. There was something so enthralling about Pierre’s demeanor and you swore you could listen to him talk for ages; he was just so relaxing. That was only proven more by the stark contrast that was Lando who literally bounded back into the room moments later. 

“We ordered pizza too.” he announced as he set the Monaco-themed shot glasses on the coffee table with the unopened bottles but held one out to you first, “Wanna do a shot with me?”

You lolled your head to the side, pondering, “I dunno. I kinda overdid it last night.”

“C’mon.” Lando frowned, waving the empty glass in the air towards you, “I thought we’re new best friends.”

You took a second to stare at him and his pout as he tried to give you his best puppy eyes to get you to give in, but you didn’t need much convincing since the excitement of the night before was still fresh on your mind. So you leaned forward and snatched the red and white shot glass from him with a call to the next room, “Dani, I’m taking a shot!”

Your boyfriend shouted back from over his piano playing, “Okay, sweetheart!”

Lando unscrewed one of the bottles and you held out your glass so he could pour you a shot before taking one for himself and he offered the bottle out to Pierre who shook his hand to politely decline. Lando tisked in disbelief and then clinked his glass against yours, “To being the only two cool people here!”

“Here, here!” you laughed and tossed back the strong alcohol in one go. 

Once the pizza arrived, Charles and Daniel and Corbyn joined you all back in the living room to eat and the spread of pizza and alcohol was squished on the coffee table. Tabitha was set on not drinking and she graciously offered to be the designated driver so Corbyn could succumb to Lando’s peer pressure to drink with the rest of you. Charles’ fridge ended up being raided for various fruit juices to make mixed drinks to sip on as you ate which was a much safer alternative than shots. You and Daniel ended up sharing the living room rug as the rest of the group took up the couch, you placed contently in your boyfriend’s lap, each with a half-filled cup in hand, Lando sitting closest to you on the couch and he was leaning forward to talk to you intensely about whatever conversation had arisen. 

“No, no, no, listen.” he held his hand up in your face, “It doesn’t work like that. That’s not the point.”

You shoved his hand away in retaliation, “You listen.”

“Just listen,” he giggled.

“I’m not listening to you when you’re wrong.” you said louder. 

“Stop!” he shouted over you, despite your shared laughter, “I’m not wrong!”

“Oh my God,” Tabitha shook her head from her spot right in the middle of the lineup between Corbyn and Charles, “You both are crazy.”

“And intensely intoxicated.” Corbyn added. 

At the same time, you and Lando both pointed at him with a firm, “Wrong.” before bursting into laughter again. You flopped backwards against Daniel’s chest and his arms went around you habitually, smiling at your obvious drunken glee and he took another sip of his own drink, too tipsy himself to acknowledge how you were thrashing around your own cup and causing it to be dangerously close to spilling. 

“Well, this is better than any film we could have watched.” Pierre said quietly from the end of the couch to the rest of the more sensible few alongside him. 

“I’m just saying,” you continued loudly to Lando who was slouched back on the couch with his cheeks pink from alcohol and his tearful laughter, and you pointed your finger at him with the hand that held your cup, “One person can’t keep winning all the time! That’s so mean and selfish and…and…rude! They need to share! Like, if you have no wins and I have seven hundred, I’d be nice and let you pass me.”

“That’s not the point!” Lando whined, smacking his hands to his face. 

“Might as well give participation ribbons to everyone at that rate.” Charles piped up. 

You swooshed your pointed finger towards him instead, arguing all-knowingly, “Isn’t that what points technically are? Winners get fancy shiny trophies and the rest of you get little gold-star pity points?”

Pierre, Charles, and Corbyn just blinked at you for a second as if processing. 

“No. It’s not like that,” Tabitha waved her hands in the air as if to clear that concept, before directing to the three of them, “Stop thinking about it.”

“You’re just afraid to admit that I’m right.” you smirked as you brought your cup to your lips to sip from your drink.

“No, actually, I don’t think you can be any farther from the truth.”

Hardly acknowledging her, you smacked Lando’s leg to get his attention, “Oh, oh, another thing: why is it that when there are three people on the podium are they not all called winners?”

“What?” he squeaked with laughter, “Because there can be only one winner.”

“It’s not the Hunger Games.” you insisted, “All three of you up there get a fancy trophy so why aren’t you all podium winners.”

“Podium winners.” Charles repeated as he licked away his amused smile and exchanged a glance with Pierre.

Tabitha argued in reply, “So everyone’s a winner to you? What about the rest of the drivers? What do you call them? Are they the pit lane winners?”

“Yes!” you gasped, “Genius!” 

The guys audibly laughed out loud while Tabitha rolled her eyes despite her own little smile that grazed her expression and Corbyn flopped his head onto her shoulder affectionately through his chuckles. Daniel pulled you back against his chest again so he could press a chasté kiss to your shoulder and you smiled proudly at the reaction you got out of the group of them. You wiggled on his lap a little to try and get comfortable and his arm around you tightened to keep you close, but in your tipsy state, it was hard to sit still. Inevitably, you ended up splashing some of your drink onto Daniel’s jeans and he groaned as the wet sticky liquid seeped against his skin. 

“Baby.” he huffed, gently nudging you off his lap.  

“Sorry.” you pouted and stood up, almost stumbling over in the process as the alcohol was already in your head and making you dizzy. Tabitha habitually held out a hand to press to your back to keep you stable as Daniel got up from the floor and inspected the large wet spot on his right thigh.

“The toilet is down the hall if you need.” Charles offered, gesturing in the general direction. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Daniel answered thankfully. 

“Sorry.” you tried again, grasping onto his shirt to prevent him from leaving until he answered you. 

Daniel kissed the corner of your mouth, “That’s okay, sweetheart. It was an accident. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the hallway and no sooner was he gone that you were spinning around to face the group on the couch - stumbling slightly - and then you dropped back to the floor, nearly draping yourself over Lando and Corbyn’s legs with each arm.

“I have a secret.” you whispered to the five of them loudly.

“I don’t think now is a good time to tell secrets.” Tabitha offered as the only logical and sober one. 

Lando leaned forward and thrust his hand out across Corbyn to hold his index finger towards her, “Shh. I want to know the secret. Don’t ruin it.”

“So…” you glanced behind you to make sure Daniel wasn’t there all of the sudden before turning back to the lineup on the couch, “y’know George? The tall sexy one of you?”

“Uh huh. He is very tall.” Lando nodded you on. 

“Last night, on the yacht,” you held your hands to your mouth for a moment because the grin that was taking up your entire face was hard to control. The five of them were holding onto your every word as if they lived for the gossip and especially about one of their friends. You opened your hands to form a circle around your mouth and you confessed to them, “we had a threesome with him.”

There was a half second of silence that was quickly interrupted by Lando bursting into a fit of laughter and throwing himself backwards on the couch, clapping his hands together in full drunken amusement. 

From the polar opposite side of the couch, Pierre had to look away to hide his cheeky smile with a hushed, “Oh mon Dieu.”

“What’s that you say in French?” you giggled, offering a crude translation for the two native French speakers in the room, “Ménage à trois.”

“Yes, yes, we know what you mean.” Charles assured you seriously, holding both hands towards you as if to quiet you, his tone bordering entertained and half-stressed.

Corbyn was in half-shock, “Daniel wanted to do that?”

“It was his idea!” you smacked his knee as if to say ‘can you believe’. “He so totally got off on watching someone else fuck me, it was so hot.”

“No fucking way!” Lando cackled, barely able to catch his breath as he asked you again as he raked his fingers through his curly hair in complete bewilderment, “Did that really happen? You really had a fucking threeway with George Russell?”

“Yeah, we did!” you leaned on his thigh enthusiastically so you could move in closer towards him and confess to him the naughty details shamelessly, “He’s got a big dick.”

Lando literally shrieked with laughter, thrashing on the couch until he flopped onto the floor with you as if having a complete fit. His laughter only had you keeling over yourself, sharing in his hilarity until the rest of the group were pulled into light chuckles themselves at the insanity of it all. Tabitha shot a pointed look at her boyfriend who merely shook his head with a baffled grin spread across his face, at a complete loss of words. Lando had tears pouring down his face as he struggled to catch his breath, clutching his chest through peels of laughter until you were both leaning into each other in complete silence as your lungs ran out of air. 

Daniel returned to the living room at that moment, only to find the two of you in shambles on the floor and the rest of your little group in indescribable confusion and amusement on the couch. He stopped in the archway to assess the scene he walked in on for a moment before he spoke, “What did I miss?”

Lando just managed to catch his breath before turning to look at Daniel with a smooth and lighthearted, “I didn’t know you were a cuck, mate.”

“Oh my God, bro.” Tabitha gaped at his vulgar bluntness. 

Daniel’s eyes widened as you and Lando burst into laughter again and he was right on the defence, “You told them?”

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and turned to your boyfriend, “I had to tell someone. It was fun and worthy of a brag.”

“Don’t worry,” Charles spoke up, “this will not leave this room, yes?”

Pierre, Corbyn, and Tabitha all agreed easily, while it took Corbyn to lean down and smack Lando’s arm to get him to catch his breath enough to agree too. Sprawled out on the rug, Lando held his hands over his stomach as he started to calm down, having laughed himself into a stitch. 

“Fuck me.” he chuckled faintly before catching himself and wagging his finger between you and Daniel, “That was just a saying, by the way, don’t take that seriously or anything.”

“Oh, God, everyone on the grid is going to know by tomorrow, aren’t they?” you giggled, smacking your hand to your mouth. 

“Nah,” Corbyn assured you, “We won’t let him say a thing. He listens to Tabs, at least.”

“Although, there were already suspicions last night as to who was occupying the room.” Tabitha said, “And Alex 100% knows since he saw you three.”

“What?” Charles gaped at her, “When did he see them?”

Daniel sighed and joined you and Lando on the ground, accepting his defeat, “When we were sneaking off, we ran into him. I guess George’s lie wasn’t as smooth as we thought at the time.”

“If only he could lie as good as he could f-”

Daniel’s hand smothered your mouth before you could finish your drunken thought but Lando was already sent keeling over in laughter once more.

[chiefdirector]

Staging | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act Two| Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34

27 Years Ago:

The dull flickering of the cheap lightbulb was the only source of light in the small living room of the rundown apartment. The tv, which had previously been the main output of light, had turned itself off hours ago. Normally, the light would have been turned off when the last person went to bed, the power bill was always far too high, so lights and appliances were always shut off.

The small apartment only housed four, the Matthews family. Thomas, Diane, and their eight-year-old twins, (Y/N) and Theo.. Both Thomas and Diane worked tirelessly, both taking a rotation of night-shifts so as to not leave the twins alone at night, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped, leaving one of the neighbours to check in on the young children.

(Y/N) had thought it to be one of those nights, she was alone, Theo had a sleepover. It was only twenty minutes prior that she heard rustling in the living room. It was the crashing against countertops and the clattering of metal that had woken her. Mrs Newman from across the hall was half-blind, so when she heard the banging around, (Y/N) had tried to go back to sleep but her attempts didn’t last long.

She could see the light creeping in from around her bedroom door. Her mother was always scolding her for leaving it on, so teddy-bear in hand, the young girl shuffled out of bed towards her door. Cracking it open, she peaked her head around to see if Mrs Newman had left only to find her father crumpled on the floor.

Teddy-bear still in hand, she moved over to her dad, trying to wake him up. She shook his shoulder, hoping the motion would bring him round. “Daddy. Daddy wake up!”

Pulling back from the still man, (Y/N) finally noticed that her hand had been touching something red and somewhat sticky. She tried to wipe it down her pyjama pants but the red stained her hand. Tears welling in her eyes, she tried waking her dad again. “Daddy, please. This isn't funny. Wake up!”

Her tear-filled pleas rippled through the room until the sound of the front door creaked open. Quickly, (Y/N) moved throughout the room to wrap her arms around her mother. Burying her head in her chest, (Y/N) hiccuped her words out. “Momma. It's dad. He won’t wake up.”

“What do you mean sweethe-” Diane Matthews said, her focus solely on her daughter until she looked up to see her husband’s bloodstained body crumpled on the floor. “Oh. Oh sweetheart. Go to your room. Stay there”

Without room to argue, Diane dropped her handbag and ushered the young girl back into her bedroom. The second the door closed, Diane rushed towards her husband, trying to find a pulse on his cold body. She knew that he was dead from the second she saw him, but she just had to check, just in case. 

Fighting back tears, Diane moved to grab the phone and call the police when she heard (Y/N)’s door open again. 

“(Y/N), I told you to stay.”

“I thought dad could use Teddy,” The girl looked down at the bear she was still clutching. “It makes me feel better when I'm sleeping.”

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl,” Diane moved to take the bear from her daughter, wiping the tears forming in the young girl's eyes. “Now back to bed, I’ll be there soon. Okay?”

“Okay, Momma. I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” She replied but the bedroom door had already shut behind the girl.

—-

Now:

Nolan shuffled the papers between his hands, as he watched (Y/N) and Tim talk in the briefing room, trying to bide his time. Deep down he knew that he had to be truthful with her, and he knew that he would be, but he couldn't in good nature tell her what he had found without fact-checking it first.

The second (Y/N) left, he swooped in, speed walking to catch up with Tim. “Bradford, wait!”

Tim crossed his arms as he turned, not wanting to deal with whatever nonsense had sprouted from the bad luck charm which was the over-aged rookie. “Yes, Nolan. Be quick, me and Chen are hitting the streets soon.”

“I just need you to double-check this. I’m pretty sure I got it right but-”

“Give it here,” Tim snatched the paperwork from Nolan, cutting him off as he spoke. Quickly, he skimmed through the old case file, a cold case from the early 90’s. “What am I checking because clearly you didn’t write this?”

“Lopez asked me and Harper to run Sullivan’s post mortem injuries through the system. See if it was related to… anything. There was one match, this case. Someone broke into a home, murdered the victim and left without taking anything. Wounds match perfectly.” 

Tim looked up to the other man. “Right, so how is this correlated?”

Instead of responding, Nolan pointed to the name adorning the top of the file, before then directing Tim’s gaze to the relative’s and the witnesses. Quickly he read, and then reread the name. 

Tim swallowed as he processed the information. “It’s her. If that is what you were implying.”

“I thought as much. I wanted it vetted before I told the others. Just in case.”

“Good call Nolan. Grab Harper and tell Grey, I’ll call (Y/N) back to the station. Her and Lopez just left so they shouldn’t have made it far.”

“Will do.” Nolan nodded, turning on his heel to go find Harper. He didn’t make it far before he heard Bradford call him back.

“Nolan,” he said, voice steady and sincere, “thank you. You did the right thing.”

_

Taglist: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo @ladespedidas @omg-its-vixen @agentcable @rookietrek @fluentmoviequoter @wonderland2425 @niktwazny303 @the-dino-geek

Masterlist

[all-things-skylanders]

I'd love to see what you've got for High Five. He is severely underrated in my opinion

(So sorry I took so long to answer this one!)

To be honest, High Five never stood out to me as a Skylander, as I never owned him, and only knew about him from the Trap Team 'THE COMPLETE COLLECTION' handbook. But after reading through his Wiki page, I can totally see why people would like him! His playstyle sounds super fun and surprisingly in depth for a Skylander! I definitely need to add him to my collection at some point.

Updated Origin:

High Five was always seen as a troublemaker growing up. He had troubles focusing, only ever barely passing his classes, and relying on his four older siblings to help him out.

High Five's true passion in life was racing. He wanted nothing more than to speed down the cloud paved roads and dodge the giant boulders that floated in between the course. He loved the thrill, the danger, the risk!

But of course, he was not allowed to do any of the racing, due to being far too young. High Five would often compete secretley in other, less prestigious races, under the moniker "Buzzerker", but he wasn't able to go into any big name leagues without risking getting recognized.

In his races, 'Buzzerker' had started to know the other little league racers quite well, building a bit of a rivalry with a few of them, namely a group of Troll racers by the name of "The Loose Screws". They raced with a rickety, hand built airship. High Five and them had been trading wins and losses for nearly the entire time that he had been racing, and he considered them to be good friends of his.

One day, he ended up letting slip that his family was the Royal High Flying Dragonflies. While they reacted positively at first, High Five ended up eavesdropping on them planning to steal the Trophy of Sparx from his family by manipulating him.

Betrayed and hurt, High Five refused to help them, and instead used his immsense speed and aerial skills to knock their ship out of the sky. While he was extremely hurt that what he thought were his friends had betrayed him over a magic trophy, his bravery was rewarded.

His family finally stopped babying him, learning that the "baby brother" they had always seen as a troublemaker was far more talented than anyone had given him credit for.

Additionally, Master Eon had heard of the race, and along with Bat Spin and Flip Wreck, High Five had been taken under the wing of the Skylanders and trained to be something more.

Other Stuff:

High Five has ADHD

He is known for being a bit self destructive, only ever wanting to go on dangerous missions and extreme race courses. Even speed demons like Roller Brawl think he might take things a bit too far sometimes.

High Five has extreme, debilitating claustrophobia. He gets uncomfortable in normal sized rooms, and when they get smaller, it goes into panic attack levels.

Despite initially seeming extremely different from each other, High Five is best friends with the skylanders he was trained with at the Academy: Bat Spin and Flip Wreck. They initially bonded over the fact that they all were recruited by defending their families, but they soon found that they shared a ton of common interests.

High Five's expertise at air travel and flight made him a prime candidate to receive a Supercharger when the time came for them to be initiated, but High Five refused, as he much preferred flying over being cooped up in a cockpit. The role instead ended up going to Stealth Elf, and her appropriately named "Stealth Stinger".

That's what I could come up with for High Five. Do you like it? I'm always down for feedback, as long as it's polite ^^

I named his racing alter ego after his In Development name (Buzzerker). His somewhat self destructive nature comes from how much his designer went back and forth on his self damage and poison mechanics, thinking that it would make people like him less. The only other thing I'd want to specify is that I made him friends with Bat Spin and Flip Wreck because those three were the winners of the Frito-Lay designing competition, so it seemed natural that all three of them should stick together.

[sunny6677]

Friendship is Spooky! - A MLP X Spooky Month Crossover (Season 1).

(A rewrite of the one i did last time lmao).

Summary:

A few days after deciding to permanently stay in Equestria and continue her studies there, Twilight ends up interrupted during one of her studies by a sudden portal opening in the main area of her treehouse.

On the other hand, in another universe, the residents of a local town called Sedonah are minding their own business, when a bunch of weird portals begin to appear everywhere. And something about the portals.. weirdly draws them in.

PROLOGUE PART 1: Portal Troubles.

————

Birds fluttered from outside, chirping and flying around above in the clear blue vibrant sky. From on high, the vibrant radiant sun glimmered down on the fields of pastel green. Dazzling, warm winds blew. Yet they came to a sharp rush as a shape of a horse flew from on high—wait, flew?

The shadow flew over the fields of green. In fact, it flew over a few more little cottages that were being walked passed by several pastel and colorful shapes. Creatures, in fact. They appeared to be horses, or ponies for that matter—but the way they looked wasn't anything like an actual pony at all.

Some of them looked like regular horses somewhat, only with colorings on their fur that weren't normal. Like green, blue, or red. On the hind parts of their legs though—there appeared to be weird symbols. One had a music note as it's symbol. Another even had a violin as it's symbol. The symbols werent particularly only unique to these types of ponies though. In fact—most of the ponies around the area seemed to have one. Besides a few smaller ones, anyway.

What appeared to be coming from the shadow that was cast on the town was a bright blue pony with streaks of rainbow in its hair—a symbol of thunder on its hind legs with a streak of rainbow thunder sprouting out from the cloud. It's tail dashed in the winds. And it appeared to be floating within the sky. No. Speeding. For it appeared to have some kind of wings sprouted from the small of its back.

The pony had some kind of mischevious smile on its face, dashing through the air at a rather rapid pace. And quickly it flew upward, vanishing behind a few pairs of white fluffy clouds and past a gigantic tree house in the center of the village crowded with all sorts of ponies. The wood was awfully long, leading all the way up to a green sprouting of fluffy leaves. Different panes of windows were on all parts of the tree.

Yet from the center of the tree though—there was a small wooden balcony with a glass door. Visible through the glass door was something faint. But pastel purple. It moved around. While something smaller with a similar purple coloring (along with spikes of green sprouted from its back) followed the creature around.

The purple shape walked further in the glass doors view. It wasn't just any shape. In fact, it was a pony—just like the ones from outside. It was average-sized with bangs of dark purple for its mane, streaks of pink and light purple lined from the right part of its upper mane. It's had a small snout, with dark purple glittering eyes resembling the twilight of the night sky. On its hind legs was.. a bright pink star with other smaller, white specks of stars on all sides of it. It's tail appeared to be about the same as its mane—with streaks of pink and lighter purple still present. But that wasn't really important.

And as if it was an ordinary thing, this peculiar pastel purple pony began to talk. It's voice sounded feminine, yet somewhat snarky as it groaned. "Ughh—where is it? Where is it?" It's voice repeated in a panic.

Quickly, it turned, and then trotted off to some random corner of the tree house. The smaller purple thing that was following it wasn't a pony like the many others outside. In fact, it was some kind of oddly small dragon. With purple scales, green emerald eyes, and green spikes sticking out from its hear to its long tail.

The dragon (presumably Spike) tilted is head, arching a brow in minor worry at the other creatures odd anxiety. "I don't know, Twilight. I haven't seen it since you went out to grab that new spell-book."

"Well, try looking for it!" The pony, 'Twilight', practically yelled out as it trotted anxiously. "I need it for the spell! If I don't find it, I won't be able to continue my studies!"

"..relax, Twilight. It's just a spell." Spike tried saying softly. Though it then blinked slowly, noticing something in the corner of its eye. It was a bottle. With bright cyan-blue liquid inside.

"Just a spell? It's not just a spell! It's—" Twilight stopped, its eyes flickering over where the bottle was on the shelf. "Aha!"

It didn't run toward the bottle though. In fact, an odd hot-pink aura began to slowly form around the bottle, lifting it up into the air. The aura hadn't just formed around the bottle though. In fact, it had formed around something that was sprouted from the top of her head. A long, pastel purple horn.

The bottle slowly flew across the air as they both watched, and placed itself on the brown desk before the pony.

Twilight then trotted over to the desk. The bottle didn't appear to be the only thing on the small table. There was a dark brown book with leather as its cover. The title, printed in black, simply read: 'Portal Spells'. There even appeared to be other small bottles of strange liquids beside it.

Twilight formed a pink aura around the book with it.. well, her horn presumably, and it slowly began to flip open as she looked upon the pages with a furrow of her brows.

"You sure you wanna do this, Twi?" Spike asked anxiously, "I mean—what if you accidentally summon the wrong portal?"

"Don't worry, Spike." Twilight assured. "I know what I'm doing. All the princess asked me to do was to just summon a portal, and use the spell she taught me recently to bring in some random object from the portal. Once I get the spell done, I'll just throw it back in."

"Well, what's the point of the spell if you're just gonna throw it back in?"

"It's a test, Spike." She rather flatly replied. "She just wants to know if I'm able to pass it. I've done all her other tests before. I'm sure this one will be just fine."

Spike took a step back. Twilight bowed her head. With a sigh, she began to speak softly. A pink aura summoned itself now a little more intensely around her horn as words escaped her mouth. The aura sparked around the book.

"Open the gaps of the universe, and let there be an opening into this world." She whispered. The spark around the book began to intensify, now flickering. "Let the stars align, let the stars shine, and seep its realities into my own. For as this portal may open, I shall enter, and do my duties as I must do them. Open the ga—"

There was a wave of a loud, suddenly electrical burst of noise—echoing through the treehouse. Twilight yelped from surprise, backing away from the small table in front of her. Spike did the same—screeching slightly and diving to the nearest corner.

There was a sudden.. bright light. A bright light that's source was opening from in the center of the room. It looked like a small cyan gap at first. But within a few seconds, the gap slowly opened, forming a circle. There were white flickers of specks inside. Forming, buzzing around—almost like flies as it glowed.

Twilight and Spike stared, their mouths agape. She hadn't even finished the spell from what it seemed. She didn't even get to finish speaking. Had something else come in? Had the spell somehow gone wrong?

Twilight let herself slowly begin to walk over to the portal of light. It looked strange, but beautiful. She could practically feel herself getting lost in the specks of the stars that flickered back at her. As she walked, and walked closer to it. Her mouth was still agape. Her brows raised.

She.. almost felt like she was about to walk completely into it. That was at least until she felt a sharp pain against her body, and found herself flying onto her back as she yelped. Something firm but fuzzy had landed on her. It was large. Or.. average sized. And she could hear it grunt in the brief moment she had her eyes shut.

Twilight heard something else land on the wooden floor nearby with a loud thud. Twilight tried to squint her eyes open. Yet the moment she did, she saw something. Two pairs of shut eyes. There was face. A white snout. Some other pony was now on top of her.

It was a mare, it seemed. Laying on top of her with her head raised, low grunts escaping her mouth. Her mane was a lilac purple, with baby bangs sprouted from the roof of her head. Much like Twilights own main. The only difference was that the mare had a slight split in the right side of her bangs. With some kind of backwards triangle floating above her head. Almost like a cowlick of some weird kind. Her coat was a pure white. Much lime Twilights own horn, there was a horn sprouted from the top of her head.

The mare slowly opened her eyes—which appeared to be purple. Her eyes slowly began to widen after a few seconds.

"..uhh.. hello..?" Twilight said, being unsure of what to say.

Without much warning, the mare suddenly let out a scream, falling onto her back and off of Twilights form.

[midnightactual]

From CFYOW vol. II, chapter 9:

The high-speed movement possible through Fullbring enabled control over the reishi dormant in the ground and the power to increase the ability to move itself. Unlike shunpo, it would disturb the surrounding spiritual pressure to a minimal degree and could be said to be similar to sonido in that it was covert and allowed one to take an opponent by surprise.

Shunpo (flash steps) are not a covert high-speed movement option. Sonido and High-Speed Movement are. Hirenkyaku might be. But Shunpo normally creates disturbances in surrounding spiritual energy signatures, like a sonic boom.

So then, what does the fact that Soifon only notices Yoruichi's flash step disturbances immediately before impact tell you? It tells you that 1. Yoruichi's top speed is extremely high, and 2. that Yoruichi's ability to dampen those disturbances is extremely good.

This is borne out by similar feats against Byakuya and others. (You might say well of course you'd only detect a sonic boom approaching you at the last moment, based on sound/air pressure changes. But dampening is confirmed by the fact that no one ever tracks her from her wake either.)

She manages to make something which is inherently unstealthy into something which is. This is akin to making the SR-71 (which was a somewhat stealthy plane in terms of design, but the engine plumes of which completely negated that and made it extremely obvious on radar) show up like an F-35 on radar. The finesse and mastery necessary to achieve this kind of feat shouldn't be underestimated.

[izthepup]

Brok Catch-up

This will include spoilers, and cussing. Well, by cussing I mean the word but somewhat censored. Minor mentions of drunkenness, drugs, and uh... how do I say this... a mention of a... a... juicy nokken -sobbing sounds- ITS SCARY

———If you were a Valkyrie———

- He asks for you to take off your helmet / mask every so often

- Actually a lot

- "Oh come on, take off ya (helmet / mask.) We all know you're a pretty son of a b-"

- Well, the pretty part is something kind of rare, he only says it sometimes

- Sometimes he might just take the helmet off- if he can even reach it

- Mainly his only chances are when you're sitting or laying down

- But he will ask sometimes 

- Behind closed doors either you take it off, or he's gonna grab it off of your head 

- He's in between about flying 

- Once you offered

- "Nahh. My blue toes are meant to stay on the ground, not high up."

- You just grabbed him and tossed him on your back.

- "HEY YA SON OF A B-"

- Then he realized it was fun

- "AHAHAAHAHA LOOK AT ALL THOSE BAS-"

- He doesn't care too much about being touched by your wings, but he is kind of surprised how soft they are

- "Huh. Ya wings are pretty soft."

- He probably has made new armor for your wings- and just for you overall

———Your Best Friend + Friends———

- Sindri

- You love him as a brother 

- Brok likes to mess with him by putting stuff in his infinite bag

- Sometimes you help him by distracting Sindri or just giving brok an idea of what to put in it

- You probably give him ideas of stuff not too bad

- Atreus too

- You see him kinda like a little brother, maybe even a nephew

- Mimir

- Mimir gives brok riddles

- Brok gives Mimir riddles

- Sometimes you give them riddles

- Sometimes they give you riddles 

- Kratos maybe

- sometimes he talks to you and brok 

- when brok goes on adventures with him (which is rare), sometimes you tag along.

———How you cuddle + hug———

- He doesn't cuddle or hug too much

- Every now and then he does hug

- Sometimes he cuddles

- When he hugs, it's just like a normal hug you might expect

- Basically him wrapping his arms around you

- When he does cuddle, basically it's mainly three ways

- 1) He'll wrap his arms around your torso, and put his face almost in your arm- [If you are laying down]

- 2) He'll wrap one arm around you and rest his head on your chest

- 3) He'll just fall into your lap and expect you to let him just stay there

- In fact he'll probably make you stay there

- He doesn't care if others see

- You could be chilling, alone or in front of others and he'll just plop himself onto your lap

- "Oh stop gawking. Can't I hang out with my b-"

———Kisses———

- Pretty much anywhere

- Hand? 

- Sure, if he's feeling like it

- Face?

- Yep! If he can reach it

- Neck?

- Kinda weird, but yeah if he wants to mess with you

- Nose? 

- Mhm.

- Eskimo kisses?

- Nope.

- Lip locking?

- Yeah, mainly behind closed doors though.

- He mainly gives sloppy kisses-

- He'll do normal speed kisses most of the time

- If he has to go

- "ALRIGHT, HOLD ON A DANG MINUTE. Geez.."

- He'll either not kiss you if he really has to leave 

- But if it isn't urgent, he might give you a kiss- just barely quicker than normal

———Do you wear each other's clothes———

- He won't wear yours.

- If you wore his, he'd be confused

- "What the f-"

- "Why are ya wearing my clothes?"

- He'd say both of those of course

- He'd let you wear it for a little bit

- Then he'll ask for them back

———If they heard you sing———

- He'd watch you

- He thought you sang pretty good

- When you finished

- "Why did ya stop? Continue, don't mind my gawkin."

———When they get jealous———

- He probably took you to a bar

- just so you could meet some of his old drinking buddies

- Unfortunately a bunch of people were pretty drunk 

- They begun flirting with you

- He was talking to his old drinking buddies, before he realized you weren't there

- Then he saw you, and he got jealous after seeing some people flirting with you

- "HEY! STOP MAKIN PIG EYES AT Y/N! THIS IS MINE."

- You dragged him out before he started a bar fight

- "Brok, were you jealous?"

- He gave you a look before answering.

- "Maybe a little. But those dumb bas- were flirting with you."

———If they walk in on you changing———

- He asked the others where you were

- He wanted to ask you something

- He didn't even knock, he just barged in

- "HEY, Y/N! WHAT DO-"

- "Wow, you have a hot bod-"

- He'd say both of course

- You'd probably be throwing things at him to get him out

- "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I'LL LEAVE. CALM DOWN."

- If you asked 

- "Hmmmm. Fine, only 'cause I'm so nice."

- He didn't seem embarrassed at all

- He wasn't embarrassed at all, either

———Everyday life / sorta headcannons———

- He'd call you things like a son of a b-, idio-, sunshine

- He would be putting dead things in Sindri's bag sometimes 

- He'd make you armor and weapons, free of charge

- well, you do have to find the materials

- he might make you pay for the weapon or armor with a kiss or something like that

- he enjoys making Sindri clean stuff up sometimes 

- he isn't embarrassed about doing hugs, kisses, or hand holding in public

- In fact, he'd probably do it in public specifically to make people jealous

- you two mainly hang out in Sindri's house

- you can go to Alfheim, but brok can't after Uhm...

- teaching the elves what a "Juicy Nokken" is

- ITS NOT INNOCENT TO SAY THE LEAST

- so you two don't go to Alfheim that often

- he doesn't give compliments that often, but he will compliment you

- If you get badly hurt, there's a few things he might do 

- 1) Grab a bandage or some cloth and wrap it around the wound

- 2) Try to carry you to safety before trying to tend to the wound

- 3) Get Kratos or Atreus to help him by either carrying you, or help tend to your wounds

- If you are a god, it won't really change his view of you

- he doesn't really know how to react to compliments

- well, he kinda does, some times he doesn't know how to react

———After his death———

- Everyone felt bad for you and sindri 

- You weren't the same after witnessing your loved one's death

- Sindri only trusted you 

- He would only hang out with you

- He was a little bit like his old self after a while, but still different 

- Atreus would try to apologize to you and Sindri

- You and Sindri probably still lived in his house

- Just, whenever Kratos and Atreus would come in, you two would just stay in Sindri's room.

———If you were sick———

- He'd ask Mimir what to do

- He'd make you soup

- if you ordered him around, he'd grudgingly do it

- "I don't see why ya can't do it yourself, dumb a-"

- But he'd still take care of you

- If you refused to sleep he'd make you sleep

- "Oh c'mon, just go to sleep already."

- If you can't sleep, he'd get Mimir to tell him a story to tell you- or get Mimir to tell you a story 

———During your period———

- "What the f- is a period?"

- You explained it

- "And are ya sure it isn't killing you?"

- He wasn't entirely convinced that you weren't slowly dying

- "Alright, alright I'll get you what you need I s'ppose."

- He doesn't know how to make tea

- He'll either say 

- "Suffer than. I can't helps ya with those cramps of yours."

- (yes I put s at the end of random things cause he sometimes talks like this SHUSH)

- Or he'll grudgingly ask Sindri to make it

- "Y/N, ya know what I went through for this 'tea'? Ya had better appreciate all of my hard work."

———Soulmate AU———

- At first he didn't believe in soulmates

- "What a bunch o' hog sh-"

- Then he met you

- He still didn't completely believe in soulmates, but he did love you

- And he did get irritated at your connection-

- Your Connection: Whatever one of you is eating, the other craves

- If you are eating something and he can't eat at the moment

- if you are close to him: 

- "GOD DAMMIT Y/N-"

- If you aren't close to him he'll mutter the thing above

———If you almost died———

- He'd be panicking 

- "Y/N! SINDRI, GET THE F- OVER HERE WITH THOSE BANDAGES! KRATOS, YA BETTER COME TOO!"

- He made Kratos carry you to safety since he saw that you were in a too fragile state for him to try to carry you

- But before Kratos carried you, he wrapped the wound

- His hands can be surprisingly graceful and quick 

- You don't die:

- He'd be relieved

- You opened your eyes to him next to you

- His eyes were red and puffy, but he didn't seem like he had been crying

- when he saw you were alive:

- "Well, sh-. You're alive!"

- He would keep you in the house at least a week after you have healed

- If you tried to leave before then:

- "Oh, no no nope. Ya aren't gonna leave yet." 

- If you went out to adventure, he'd either

- 1) Go with you

- 2) Get Atreus (or freya), or Mimir to watch you to make sure you are safe.

- If you did die:

- "Y/N! NO, YA AREN'T ALLOWED TO LEAVE ME! C'MON, HANG IN THERE!"

- Whoever didn't help, he'd blame them

- "THIS IS YOUR FAULT! ALL YOUR F-ING FAULT! IF YOU HELPED, THEY WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!"

- His voice would be breaking / cracking

- He would probably drink more often

- He might be a little closer to sindri, and not close to whoever didn't help

- He would trust others a little less

- He might make less snarky comments or responses

- Probably be a little more quiet, and seem more tired than usual

———Their reaction to a hybrid———

- You, Sindri, Atreus, and Brok were at Sindri's house 

- Kratos was on a sort of adventure with Freya

- You got brok to come outside the house

- But there was a sort of Lindwyrm outside

- It looked like a mix of  Dragon and a lindwyrm, since it had wings

- But it was friendly

- it still seemed like a young lindwyrm, too

- "What the f-? What is that?"

- Brok was very confused

- He didn't know too much about monsters, but he knew that there weren't any known hybrids 

- He wanted to brag about it to others

- He probably told sindri something like

- "Look at what Y/N and I discovered! It's better than anything ya could ever find."

- He was mainly smug about it to others, but he was actually curious 

- he probably asked Mimir about it

———Big spoon, little spoon———

- He'd probably be a big spoon

- Sometimes he would be a little spoon

- He likes the feeling of being able to protect you as a big spoon

- He's a confident one, so he doesn't really think that he needs protecting

- But he'll mainly be a little spoon if he's in a bad mood

- it makes him feel like you'll protect him from all of his problems

Also sorry I don't really know how to write brok, so I'm just trying my best- same for sindri ;v;

Yeaa they're probably gonna be outta character sorry

[musekicker]

Part of a Otto involved drabble series I think I'm going to call "Memories of Destruction."

Formless attacks were not odd. They were common enough that though everyone was sure to keep their guard up when they showed up, it was not normally considered as big a emergency as much as a bigger or more vicious creature. Formless were battle fodder.

And that still seemed to be the case during yet another fight.

The team was fighting their way through the various formless. Some of them were the usual body shape and on foot ones. Though there were also plenty of ones on motorcycles. A variety of them.

With formless attacks being normal, it was easy enough to see changes in the attack style. Particularly in the number of formless that were there. And in this attack there were significantly more formless then usual. Far too many to feel like this was routine.

"You sense it too?" Antauri asked Chiro.

Chiro had just lightning kicked one formless and punched through another. He had the time to nod and fend off another attack.

"Yeah. Somethings wrong. This isn't a routine attack. Skeleton King doesn't send this many formless for a reason." Chiro said.

"Then the question is why to send so many?" Antauri said, slashing at a formless.

"I don't know for sure but I think Skeleton King is trying to distract us from something." Chiro said.

It would not be long for another odd for the formless and by that extension Skeleton King, action to occur.

Gibson and Otto had found themselves somewhat penned in to one area. Not enough penned in that there was reason to really worry. But still it would be wise to be on their guard. Gibson was picking off some formless that had taken the high ground, firing at them with projectiles from his drill.

Otto meanwhile had cut through two formless at once. As usual the formless fell into puddles of goo that to Otto smelled faintly of rot and gasoline.

This scent was not always the case. Formless would often smell differently from encounter to encounter. Gibson had theorized that maybe the smell was affected by how long the formless in question had been well.. formed.

But that didn't explain why everyone seemed to smell something different each time. And they only knew that fact because Otto had talked about how formless smelled before. Otto recalled when Sprx had been asked what he thought formless smelt like he had smirked and answered with one word.

"Bad."

That was a fitting word honestly. And it was those fleeting thoughts that had kept Otto distracted long enough that he didn't see what was coming.

The sound of engine and a burst of air from swift movement from behind Gibson alerted the blue monkey to the appearance of a formless on a motorcycle. Gibson whirled around to face what he thought was a formless going after him. Instead he saw the formless going right for Otto. Gibson saw what was about to happen before it did.

"Otto! Watch out!" Gibson cried.

The warning came too late. And before Otto could react, the formless had grabbed a hold of him. He yelped as he was pulled off his feet. Then the formless started to ride away.

With how sudden it had been and the fact that it was his husband that had just been grabbed by formless, Gibson couldn't help but let out a yell.

"Otto!"

Then Gibson gave chase, making a path form himself through the remaining formless with his drills. Otto should had been able to free himself by now. There had to be a problem that was preventing him from using his saws. A reason Gibson would discover later.

Gibson went to the rooftops. It was still a chase but he was starting to catch up. And soon enough he was just a bit ahead. Just where he needed to be.

At that right spot, Gibson leapt out onto the formless. He had timed the leap perfectly and he landed onto the formless's back. Without hesitation his hands became drills and he stabbed it into the formless's back.

The drills then started to turn with a speed and fury that very much was personal. It quicken the formless fate to turning to goo. It's rider fallen apart, the cycle fell apart into goo along with the formless itself. Gibson and Otto fell onto the ground.

Once both Gibson and Otto could sit up, Gibson could see what had kept Otto from using his saws now. Formless goo gumming up his hands.

Gibson moved to help remove the goo. Gibson looked Otto all over as he did.

"Are you hurt?" Gibson asked, his voice on the edge of panic.

The last of the formless goo off of Otto's hands, Otto reached for Gibson's hands to hold them. Otto was already recovering from the shock of the whole incident.

"I'm okay. Nothing hurt." Otto said.

Gibson took in a deep breath before letting it out in relief. Gibson rested his forehead up against Otto's.

The rest of the team caught up not too long after, slightly tired from both the battle and catching up.

"Everyone okay?" Chiro asked.

"We're fine." Otto said.

There was a relief amongst the entire team at those words. It was still tinged with the worry that came with the obvious question that came next.

"It's not just me whose thinking that was weird for formless?" Sprx asked.

"Yeah, they don't normally try to run off with one of us." Nova said.

"That was strange.." Antauri said, looking more pensive then had before.

"Now that I think of it, the formless seemed to be acting differently before they went after Otto. It was like they were trying to cut us off on purpose.." Gibson said.

"It was like they were targeting Otto." Chiro said.

The thought that one of the team alone was the main focus of any sort of Skeleton King plot was a terrifying one. It was bad enough when Skeleton King was focused on the team as a whole. But to have his evil aimed right at one of them in particular? It was even scary. Whatever plot Skeleton King it would not be pleasant.

Otto frowned at the thought.

"Why me though?" Otto asked.

"That's a question we need to find the answer to quickly." Antauri said.

[phantasmalnightmare]

Her country sounded entirely different than Japan, and significantly less fun. Perhaps, that was solely because of her Mafia lifestyle, but what kind of country didn't even have an amusement park? Carousals were slow and boring. As he declared they were friends in such an easy manner, he felt the truth in those words. If anything, he admired people that weren't scared to be open with him, and she was surprisingly strong and mature for a high school student.

"Yeah I'd never abandon Toman willingly. They're my family, and I'll keep protecting them." Mikey stated confidently. Sonia wasn't giving herself enough credit for stopping him though. Maybe he would have stopped himself. It was his policy to never hit a woman. The rage he'd felt laying eyes upon her though, had been so all consuming. He'd wanted to harm that woman, to crush her in such a way that she'd never put a gun in someone else's hand again. He didn't have much time to ponder about it though, as he took off at a blinding speed, trying to escape their unwanted entourage.

He'd always been skilled at riding his bike, so although he pulled off many reckless maneuvers, he knew just how low he could get without the weight of the bike tipping them over, and how much distance he needed to keep when he weaved in between the cars. Yet, someone that was a passenger, much less one with hardly any riding experience, would surely be terrified. He heard her laughter, and thought he was mistaken. Perhaps, she was laughing hysterically.

After he'd apologized, however, he realized that the joy had been genuine. Cobalt hues widened in surprise, before he laughed softly himself. "You really are quite an interesting girl. I know what I'm doing on my baby, but do you really trust me that much already? I could have misjudged that distance ya know? Not that I would." He flashed her a teasing grin. "Maybe we'll have time on the way back"

As they entered the Chiba area, Manjiro held back a grimace. He hadn't been here in awhile, and he'd forgotten how unwelcome his kind was. Not that he particularly cared what the general populace thought of him, but he was here just to have fun. "The haunted mansion? You must really be an adrenaline junkie huh? I haven't been since it's newer though, so let's go!" He exclaimed, as he pulled into the parking lot. "'Cause they seem girly... What kind of gang leader wears Mikey mouse ears?" The kind that liked getting the children's flag on their omurice, perhaps.

Even without his jacket, Tomen's leader knew the pair of them were anything but incognito, especially Sonia. Her clothes were all high end designer, and would likely make her a target for pick pockets. He'd have to be on high alert. He also didn't like the fact that she was so much taller than him. He'd always been somewhat self conscious about being so short. Draken had already had his growth spurt, but hopefully Mikey's would come soon. He had to constantly look up at her, not that he would stare at the place that his eyes would be level with. His experience at the host club had been enough for his comfort.

"Twenty minutes? Uh.. sure." He shrugged. It was a bit strange that she'd decided to go on a shopping trip all of a sudden, and it seemed like a long time to pick out an outfit, but he'd heard that girls took awhile picking out clothes. As she headed to the mall, he sat back down on his bike, and he rested his head on the handles, falling asleep almost immediately. It had been a long day, and he hadn't taken a nap for awhile.

He was woken by her voice, and he slowly cracked his eyes open. She looked like a normal girl now, and he was a bit taken aback by it. The blue did go well with her eyes. "Cute.." He mumbled sleepily, trying to rouse himself the rest of the way. He stood up, stretching and yawning. "You look much better in clothes like that if you ask me. I'm ready, whenever you are." He led her to the gate and asked for two tickets. He was grateful that Kokonoi was now a part of Toman, since they were so expensive, but he knew the other boy could help him gain back the funds easily.

Once inside, he looked over the map. "The haunted mansion is North. The roller coasters are on the other side of the park.... The Food courts are nearby. Oh." His eyes fell upon the gift shops that were close by. "Wait a sec." He went inside, and sure enough, they had every variety of ears known to man. What kind would she like...? After going through a couple of racks, he pulled out a blue pair of Mickey mouse ears. It was the same shade of blue as her uniform. "These'll look good I think... Huh?" He noticed a pair of wolf ears, and despite his earlier proclamation, he wanted them. Sure, she was older than him, taller than him, and he didn't want her to think of him as a child. But she had seemed to want him to wear a pair...

He finally bought both, and put on the gray wolf ears, before heading back out. "Well... what do you think? Do they look ridiculous?" He asked, before revealing the blue pair he'd been hiding behind his back to her. "These are for you..." Mikey suddenly felt a bit bashful. He'd never given a gift to a girl before, and he hoped that she would like them.

"Well, we do not exactly have amusement parks in my country," Sonia explained, though no matter the context it appeared to be rather ludicrous to her new friend. Just about as strange as having Manjiro Sano as her new friend: yes, it was common for those in crime families to be acquainted with street gang members for potential inductees, but it was the circumstances that he'd declared their friendship. Frankly, she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd declared a vendetta, or however the Japanese enacted a long-term revenge. "There is a carousel in the capital's largest park, but that is about it. It is not a large place."

That also helped with controlling the makeshift 'leadership.' It was whispered knowledge how much the country's leaders and law enforcement resided in the Borghese Family's back pocket: Novoselic couldn't be as militarized as they were without arms assistance from the mafia. There was too much guilt, she knew, in her family's line of work: at least from how she felt day in and day out. Her mother, in contrast, held no such scruples: she'd battled her way to the top, to create the first entirely female-run organization and she intended to keep it that way. Anyone who got in her path was an obstacle to be exterminated, with her only getting her hands dirty unless she needed to. An example she'd set for her daughter, though even Sonia's hands weren't clean. "I think you only fail the ones who have left you if you stop trying, Sano-san," She replied, waiting for him to rev the engine and really send her trailing security into a panic. "If you stop trying to cultivate and caring for your family, your Toman family. You will only have failed them if you turn your back on everyone. So do not do it: you will not be able to live with the consequences, I imagine."

Just because she'd taken a life before didn't mean she'd come to terms with it, or if she'd ever will. But from what she knew of street gangs, she doubted Sano's friends had done so, or would be prepared to do it if the time ever came. Their lives, she supposed, were mostly innocent mischief with a side of fistfights, an errant knife or two here and there. An assigned kill delivered by someone more powerful than they could imagine, with more influence on every aspect of their world...that was something different. And while Sonia didn't know any of them, she felt compelled not to make them endure any of it. To let them be teenagers for as long as possible, not having to grow up too early, too soon. Not like her own adolescence. "I do not think I deserve all of the credit for stopping you," She replied as they came to a stoplight, giving her car time to catch up with them, one of her guards halfway leaning out the window to shout at them. "Do not disregard the strength of your own conscience. It is there, even if you do not listen to it-OH!"

He hadn't given her much warning, but Sonia gripped him tighter as he sped up, everything going by faster and faster. Her heartbeat too, pumping adrenaline through her veins even before she stepped foot on the first roller coaster. "Whoo! Yes, this is excellent!" She cried as he weaved them around cars, crossing far more lanes of traffic than was safe. She laughed when he took sharp turns, causing the bike to lean closer towards the ground, so close to causing traumatic injuries. Close, but not quite.

"Apologize? Whatever for?" She chuckled as he finally slowed down, certain they'd left her security several stops further back on the highway. "That was such fun! I would ask to do it again, but we have plans we must keep, do we not? Though I shall not mention you kidnapped me: I fear that might bring you and Toman unwanted attention, and I would rather not present the opportunity."

The central area of Tokyo was soon behind them, making way for the quieter Chiba Prefecture. Far more suburban than the rest of the city and ideal for families, less ideal for street gangs. As Sonia looked around, Sano's motorcycle was now the only one in the vicinity, with onlookers noticing his embroidered Toman jacket and whispering amongst themselves. From what she could gather each time they stopped, it was something along the lines of hoping the delinquent wouldn't cause trouble for them. She sighed: as if a piece of clothing would assure chaos. "Disney?" She piped up, hoping to distract him so he wouldn't overhear the gossip. "I have heard of their theme parks! Yes, with the parades and all: they apparently have a haunted mansion too! I would very much like to see that, I am sure it is most beautiful and macabre. But why won't you wear the ears?"

From what she'd seen on television, ears were an essential part of a Disney visit: every visitor, young and old, donned a pair of animal ears in order to explore the park. Surely that included leaders of street gangs. Sonia waited for him to get off the parked motorcycle first before holding onto the seat, needing to balance herself as she slid off the bike and back onto the pavement, high heels and all. He had a point about the disguise: it was likely useless, and he was the one making a helpful contribution to their anonymity that day by storing his Toman coat with the motorcycle. Sonia frowned in thought: even without his coat, they stuck out together. From her expensive clothing to Italian designer handbag to her high heels, she looked entirely overdressed for a theme park and towered over him. Sano was already shorter than her, she suspected, even in her flat feet, but in her shoes there was probably 20 centimeters height difference between them, leaving his eyes in line with somewhere, if he chose to be respectful, he shouldn't be looking. She needed a better disguise and fast, her gaze darting around the parking lot to the opposite end, away from the theme park: a shopping mall, Ikspiari.

"Tell you what," She grinned mischievously, nodding her head towards the mall. "Give me twenty minutes to turn myself into someone neither Toman nor the Borghese Family would be looking for. It will be fun!"

She was true to her word, once inside disappearing into a brightly-lit shop targeted at young people and emerging seventeen minutes later. All of her luxury attire had been cast aside in favor of a pale blue nondescript school uniform, complete with a plaid pleated skirt, pale blue blazer, neck bow, a hair bow slid beside the blonde braid arranged over the top of her head, white thigh high socks, and a more practical pair of loafers. She'd even bought a traditional faux leather school bag with a Sanrio and a Mickey Mouse charm hanging from the side. Plenty of space to add more charms, as normal school girls did.

"Thank you for waiting," She beamed, twirling once before him looking far more like an ordinary exchange student, rather than the heir to one of the world's most dangerous crime families. "Is this not a good and fitting disguise? I asked for the most appropriately feminine outfit, something a normal girl would wear! The shop associates insisted on the blue, for it matches my eyes. But now that we are appropriately hidden in plain sight, shall we be off?"

[condorclaw]

Tommy frowned, staring.

Michael stared back.

Tubbo and Ranboo could only watch this scene unfold, somewhat expecting that this would happen between their friend and their son. What they didn't expect was how quiet Tommy was.

It was silent in the room for a minute or two more, before Tommy reached out a hand and softly booped the top of Michael's nose. The zombie piglin let out a honk of approval, making Tommy's eyebrows raise in amusement. With the piglin happy, the boy turned to face Michael's parents.

"I don't think this is a dog, fellas."

Tubbo and Ranboo both released large sighs of relief that they didn't even know they were holding in, Tommy slightly tilting his head in confusion.

"Well, we said he wasn't a dog, Tommy. We said he was our son."

"Some people call their dogs their kids, so I could only guess."

As the best friends talked, Ranboo gazed over at Michael with affection, feeling a grin spread across his face. What Ranboo didn't expect, however, was how closely Michael seemed to be watching Tommy.

Surprising Ranboo again, the piglin stood up on wobbly legs, trotting over to where Tommy was leaning on a piece of furniture. Snorting, he clutched on to one of Tommy's legs, leading Tommy to jolt from the sudden contact a little, before instinctively trying to lean away from Michael. Recognizing that Tommy was having a bit of a rough time at the moment, Tubbo leaned down and carefully removed Michael's arms from Tommy's leg, mumbling soft words of comfort and encouragement to both Tommy and Michael.

After Michael was removed, Tommy had to take a moment to catch his breath and clear his thoughts, his eyes shutting for a moment as he muttered unintelligible words to himself. Tubbo and Ranboo waited for him to recover, Michael watching with curiosity.

"A'ight, I'm okay now," Tommy inhaled deeply, letting out an equally deep exhale before opening his eyes again.

"I'm really sorry about that-" Ranboo began to apologize before getting cut off by Tommy.

"Nah, don't apologize, big man. Michael's a fetus, he doesn't know about complicated adult things like trauma."

Tubbo let out a snort of laughter, which Michael tried to copy the sound of.

"He's not normally physically affectionate like this on first meetings," Ranboo spoke, though mostly to himself more than anyone else.

Michael let out a squeal of frustration, alerting the trio to the piglin trying to wiggle out of Tubbo's arms. Tubbo and Ranboo's ears stood up in surprise at the sudden noise, the two looking down at their son worriedly. Tommy had looked startled when Michael began his outburst, but now looked much calmer as he leaned down a little to come face-to-face with Michael.

Tubbo and Ranboo's surprise grew even bigger as Tommy began to make squealing and oinking noises himself, causing Michael's fit to stop. The piglin's eyes were wide with excitement as Tommy spoke, his stubby arms starting to wave in excitement as he continued his excited honking, which Tommy responded to as well.

"What the fuck," Tubbo whispered in shock, his eyes wide, and Ranboo had to agree with him there.

Tommy proceeded to sit down on the floor, glancing up at Tubbo with a lopsided smile. "You can put 'em down, Big T. It's alright."

Following Tommy's instructions, Tubbo set his son down, who immediately sprinted towards the blonde at high speeds. He halted in his tracks when Tommy barked out another noise, one that Ranboo and Tubbo didn't understand, that brought Michael to a slower pace. It sounded somewhat familiar to Ranboo, but he didn't know why.

Michael ended up standing in front of a seated Tommy, the taller boy laughing as he reached out his hand slowly. The piglin stepped forward slowly, moving to grip one of Tommy's fingers gently, which allowed Tommy to carefully wrap his hands around Michael, lifting him up to eye level. Tommy let out a small noise again, causing Michael to oink in delight.

Smirking with satisfaction, Tommy looked back over at the stunned parents, sticking out his tongue a little. "Surprise, motherfuckers."

"HOW DID-" Tubbo began to belt out, quickly stopped by Ranboo by the taller boy pressing down on Tubbo's head gently. With this sign from Ranboo, Tubbo cleared his throat, continuing to speak.

"Tommy, and I mean this in the nicest way possible: how the fuck did you do that?"

"Wot? You jealous that I can speak piglin?"

Ranboo was learning so much today that he didn't expect in any way whatsoever.

"One," the enderman spoke, trying to keep his voice at a calm level while his husband stood slack-jawed. "Yes, I am. Two: how do you know piglin?"

The shit-eating grin on Tommy's face grew wider upon seeing how he stunned his friends, causing him to look back at Michael and speak in piglin once more, making the kid chirp out happily.

"Tomathy Danger Careful Kraken Innit Minecraft, you tell me what you just said to him right now," Tubbo folded his arms, trying to hide the previous shock on his face with little-to-no success. Ranboo, meanwhile, now had to process the fact that he had never known Tommy's full name.

"I just told him that I was cooler than the both of you," Tommy barked out a laugh, Michael giggling along with him as Tommy set him back down on the ground.

"Anyway," the blonde continued, watching as Michael began to walk in circles around him. "I learned piglin from Techno. He suggested we use it for commands in battle so nobody else would understand what we were saying."

It suddenly made sense what Tommy had said to Michael that sounded familiar. Ranboo had heard Technoblade use that exact sound when they were exploring in the nether, and had come face-to-face with a piglin squadron. "Wait, were you telling Michael to approach safely?"

"Hell yeah, Ranboob" Tommy gave a thumbs-up, Michael trying to copy the gesture with his own hooves. "When I was still living with him as well, I'd go to the Nether when we had nothing else to do. Yeah, the Nether is a horrible shitty place and I want nothing to do with it, but it was the only way I could make friends while I was still in exile."

"WAIT," Tubbo's eyes widened even more, his face looking like it might split open from surprise. "You spoke with piglins in the Nether!?"

Tommy's reply was shooting finger-guns towards his best friend with a grin, with Michael trying to copy them once more.

"As fascinating as this conversation is, and trust me, I'm absolutely going to ask you to death about this," Ranboo pointed at Tommy in a jokingly accusatory manner. "Tubbo, I think we just lost our son."

Tubbo looked towards Michael, the little one trying intensely to copy Tommy's movements. "God damn it Tommy, you stole our son."

"Hey, I'm not stealing him," Tommy protested with laughter, reaching over to gently pet Michael's head, Ranboo noticing how his touch lingered on the thin layer of hair, stroking it softly. Ranboo noted to himself that piglin hair seemed like a comfort texture to Tommy. He’d tell Tubbo about it later, but for now he’d play along with the bit of his friend stealing his son. “Oh really? Then why’s our son copying you?”

“Because I’m the coolest uncle.”

Silence stretched throughout the room once more, with both Tubbo and Ranboo’s eyes wide. The small on Tommy’s face slowly changed into a worried one, and he looked away from the couple and at the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know if-”

“Watch how hard I can cry,” Tubbo mumbled, his eyes looking bright with joy before he went to Tommy’s side, kneeling down to give him a genuine smile. “Tommy, dude, I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Even better than Ranboo proposing to me.”

“Um, rude,” Ranboo giggled, kneeling at Tommy’s other side and allowing Michael to climb up on his lap. “But yeah, I know what Tubbo’s getting at. We weren’t sure if you would even want to be Michael’s uncle-”

“Wot?” Tommy sounded genuinely surprised at that, his own eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t I want to be? He’s my best friend-brother’s son!”

“I mean, yeah, but after what happened with Techno, we weren’t sure if piglins would...”

Tommy fell quiet, his eyes shifting to gaze at the ground as uncertainty crossed his face. After a stretch of silence, only filled with Michael’s occasional chirring, Tommy gazed back at the two parents. “As complicated as my relationship with Techno might be, that shouldn’t impact this little guy,” Tommy bore his fangs in a grin, making Michael clap with his little hands. “Besides, I can understand him while you two can’t. Who else is gonna teach you two piglin without fuss?”

“Are you holding our child’s language for ransom?” Tubbo was about to playfully punch Tommy in the arm, but appeared to suddenly remember the situation and placed his hand back down.

“Noooo, but now you two need me.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes, making Tommy pretend-pout at him. Tommy folded his arms, faking disappointment. “You’re so mean to me, Ranboo. I take back my marriage blessing.”

“My husband! No!”

“We can elope, Ranboo. Tommy can’t stop us.”

“I’m holding your whole son for ransom then.”

“Actually, I don’t need my husband anymore.”

“Tubbo! How could you do this to me?

And Michael squealed with delight as the three continued on into the night.

[seiyasabi]

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao 

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc.. 

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) ) 

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt. 

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for. 

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare. 

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed. 

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?” 

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.” 

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone. 

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.” 

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her. 

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences. 

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that. 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!” 

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before. 

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh. 

-

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage. 

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home. 

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces. 

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before. 

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor. 

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this. 

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso. 

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably. 

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!” 

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat. 

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.” 

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well. 

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.” 

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!” 

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid. 

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form. 

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone. 

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face. 

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it. 

-

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight. 

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling. 

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well. 

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him. 

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?” 

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you. 

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets. 

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt. 

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties. 

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!” 

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart! 

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal. 

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly. 

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.” 

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can. 

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute. 

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so. 

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties. 

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.” 

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead. 

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour. 

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you? 

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?” 

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before. 

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny. 

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you. 

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on. 

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing. 

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls. 

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.  

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more. 

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest. 

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth. 

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you. 

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously. 

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it. 

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven. 

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you. 

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?” 

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin. 

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading. 

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh. 

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.” 

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive. 

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table. 

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation. 

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you. 

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket. 

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?” 

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera. 

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you? 

[mrpenguinpants]

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Hey anon!! As much frustration I hold for crippling oblivious couples, I also love the trope so much. Plus I adore Razor. Even though I try to not call Razor a dog, I still google “jealous dog traits”. Also, I found out both Hanniejji and I secretly HCs Bennet is friends with Razor and Fischl. If genshin won’t give me character interactions then I’ll write it myself.

---

Semi Part 1: General HCs

Semi Part 2: Pre-Relationship HCs

Semi Part 3: Cuddle HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

 @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @ aanne2601 @hanniejji​

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Bennet and Fischl are both foaming at the mouth at how deeply in love you BOTH are and yet you’re both equally blind. Fischl wants to grab you by the shoulders and yell at you that Razor returns your feelings and you need to stop doing whatever it is you’re doing. A sad Razor looks like a kicked puppy and even she can’t handle it. But Razor absolutely refuses for anyone to confess for him because he believes that you might just genuinely be uninterested in him. Plus, it wouldn’t feel right if he couldn’t confess himself. It’s his first love, this is important to him.

Bennet thinks it’s really sweet that his friend is in love. Even if he does get a bit pouty that whenever he get’s hurt, Razor will ask if he’s alright and leave it at that. But if you accidently trip Razor is already at your side and fussing over you. Bennet uses this as physical proof that yes, your feelings are returned and this man is in love with you, but you always brush it off as Razor’s nature to be caring. He’s smiling patiently on the outside but on the inside he has his hands in his hair and he’s screaming.

God forbid anything upsets you. Razor hasn’t been around other humans long enough to pick up on most social cues but he does have a good sense of smell. If you’re happy then the wind smells like sweet flowers. If you’re upset then it smells like mint. While Razor usually keeps himself in check and is somewhat indifferent, the second he catches any signs of distress from you he’s on high alert. Until you tell him what’s been bothering you - a group of hilichurls stole your bag of snapdragon flowers - he’s going to be on guard and stressed out. He’s already throwing his claymore over his shoulder to go and fight the monsters that tried to upset you. Wow, what a good friend you say to Fischl. Fischl is ready to punt you off a cliff.  

Razor tries his best to show that he likes you by bringing the things you need and looking like such a proud pup. He looks at you with such hopeful eyes that it takes you a second to register what he’s asking before you feel your own heart rate speed up and pound into your ears. You flush pink before you move to embrace him and ruffle his hair as praise as he nuzzles into your shoulder affectionally. You assume his affectious actions are apart of his wolf nature and how they act so you try not to read too deep into things. Even if Razor seems a bit too happy to be hugging you and receiving pets. Or the fact he doesn’t let anyone else pet him...

Bennet tries his best to help his friend out by giving Razor some advice but considering Bennet himself hasn’t been in a relationship yet, it’s all practical. Telling Razor that he’s seen couples bring each other flowers as a sign of affection, maybe Razor could find some plants to bring you? It ends horribly when he offers you a wolfhook and you just stare at him. He says that these are his feelings towards you but you’re just...so confused?? Wolfhooks have thorns so does that mean he thinks you’re clingy? Isn’t that a bad thing? Are you annoying to him?? But wolfhooks also symbolize wolves so is he saying you’re like family to him??? You’re internally screaming while debating if you just got family-zoned or if Razor is trying to subtly tell you that he doesn’t like you.

Just because Razor is, somehow, unsure if you actually like him or not. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get incredibly jealous and possessive at any unknown presence. He’s still a bit wary of the City due to all the conflicting smells and noises but he can’t help but look so sad when you have to run errands and you can’t visit him. But when you mention that a really nice knight gifted you a flower does Razor see red. He gave you a flower?? Shouldn’t you be happy with his? Why do you need another one when you have his? Is his gift not good enough? Is this your way of saying you’re interested in someone else? This poor boy is on the verge of either running off to go sulk or find the man that gave you this flower, which up until his knowledge - courtesy of Bennet - is a sign of courting, and absolutely destroy him to prove he’s the better partner.

He tries to keep it under wraps since he's been told that while in the City, he needs to exercise restrain and understand that if he enters. He's expected to at least respect the laws and people. But this poor wolf is so feral over this new development and this new smell that's been clinging onto you that whatever worries and isolation issues Razor felt about the city flies out the window as his protective instincts kick into overdrive. He sees other people and even pets as a rival for your attention and love. He just wants to scoop you up and growl at everything as a message to say “this is mine, go get your own”.

Even when the both of you are far away from the city, Razor’s continued mood seems to hang heavy over both your heads. You’re not sure what exactly caused Razor to be on high alert. He’s snapping and growling at everything little thing that comes close, even a butterfly!

You abruptly stop walking to Razor’s surprise as you whip around and frown at him. He can feel a chill run up his spine as he stands perfectly straight as you study him before you hold your palm out and looked at him expectantly. He looks at your hand with a small spark of perked attention before his nose twitches and he goes back to sulking. You’re still waiting for him as he shuffles a bit, his hair that resembled a wolf ear is twitching, before he whines and trots over and places his chin on your palm. He’s looking up at you with the most kicked puppy expression and you don’t even know what you did but you feel like the worse person in all of Teyvat.

“Razor...what’s gotten into you?” you ask gently as you rub circles into his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm. He seems really conflicted as his eyes dart away from your face and he almost looks guilty. He just whines and turns and buries his face into your warm palm. You’ve never really seen him like that before as you awkwardly try and comfort him. Until the same flower slips out of your pocket and you hear something primal growl out of Razor. His teeth are pulled back and he snarls at the flower as his pupils dilate. You quickly get between him and the poor flower before Razor tries to do anything.

“Seriously Razor, what’s gotten into you?” you asked concerned. He quickly shifts his attention to you as he pounces and knocks you over. You left off a soft noise as the wind get’s knocked out of you but you peep when his hands cage you from above. Razor’s red eyes bore into yours and you’re suddenly thinking the air is getting too hot. 

“Do you like Razor?” he asks, tilting his head in a cute pout. It makes you internally coo before you quickly snap out of it. Stay focused! 

“Of course I do! Remember we talked about this?” you say as you remember back to your previous interactions but this only seems to frustrate Razor more.

“No. Not that like. More...” Razor struggles with his words as he tries to piece together the right string of sounds to try and convey what he’s feeling. He seems so conflicted that it breaks your heart a bit. So you reach up and gently rub behind his ear as he closes his eyes and relaxes. He breathes in deeply as his eyes open and his pupils return to normal, but vastly determined.

“Together. Always. Just...us,” Razor says softly as he looks at you hopefully. There’s a small pink dust to his cheeks as his fang digs into his lip in nervousness. You’re not sure why but your heart absolutely sky rockets at it and you can feel your face flush pink.

“Um, yes?” you nod along, you think you’re understanding what he’s trying to say. Maybe he was just upset you were spending so much time in the City and away from him that he felt your friendship was neglected? That would make you really upset. But the way he phrases his words makes you believe that perhaps...

Before you can think more on it. Razor’s face breaks into a grin that nearly blinds you from the pure affection that sprouts from it. He’s already hugging you harder as he starts rubbing his nose and cheek against your neck. Making soft and happy sounds as he nuzzles you. He’s never done that before but you assume he’s just so happy. You breath a sigh of relief that it appears that your message to him was clear enough.

Yeah of course, friends always, you think

Lupical. Partner. Mate, Razor thinks.

---

whistling as I pretend I don’t see your stares. Yeah ik but it’s ok. This is a sorta semi series. We’ll build upon it. But Xiao content is next lol. I’m taking inspiration from this. I mean, when I don’t feel like shit 😷

I’ve been listening to [  Softy - Dear Moon ]. This isn’t the usual kind of music I listen to but it came on shuffle and this is now my mental breakdown song.

Quick edit: Turns out this is an ost from “My Mister”. I’ve never been into kdramas (I think I’ve only seen goblin, she was pretty, and Hwarang) but the cover picture looks so upsetting? My friend is really into tgcf and I believe that had a live action as well. 

[kestrelvylbrand]

FFXIV Write 2: Bolt

Master List (Coming Soon)

“You’re killing me with these prices!” Kestrel sighed dramatically. The store owner did not look impressed. She was a middle-aged elezen woman, her iron-grey hair tied up into a neat bun. A pair of half-moon spectacles perched halfway down on her narrow nose. Her clothes were immaculate, as one might expect from an upscale store in Ishgard.

“These are newly imported from Radz-at-han,” she said with a sniff, pushing the glasses further up her nose so she could look Kestrel up and down. Kestrel struck a pose, then leaned sideways against the table with the fabrics rolled out. The conclusion of the woman’s examination clearly didn’t come out in Kestrel’s favor.

“They are handmade, very exquisite. I try not to judge a book by its cover…” She tilted her head, giving Kestrel another look. “... But if the price is too high for you, I am sure we can find something more in your range.”

The woman’s tone had softened slightly, perhaps at Kestrel’s expression. “I have some rather lovely organza, how does mauve sound?” She left the bolt of clothes on the table as she turned to find the mauve organza. Kestrel played idly with one of the pearls of the delicate fabric that had caught her eye from outside the store. It was a delicate, translucent fabric, fading from soft blue into a deep purple, like the sky right after the sun has set, before it truly gets dark. Pearls of various sizes dotted the fabric like stars. She didn’t usually pay much attention to fabrics but this one, this one had caught her attention immediately when she passed by.

She flicked one of the pearls, then smoothed out a fold with a defeated expression. Normally, she would not have hesitated to just grab the cloth and bolt, and when the shopkeeper had first eyed her with that hawkish, disdainful expression Kestrel knew all to well, that was exactly what she had planned to do. But now, another feeling crept in, keeping her nailed to the floor as the woman fussed over various fabrics. Was it guilt? Despite her initial impression, the woman had not turned Kestrel away at the door, and had in fact barely hesitated to bring the bolt of pearl-studded fabric out to show her, despite the fact that Kestrel knew it was all too clear she didn’t have the kind of money one would need for this kind of store. And now, she was trying her best to find something else, something just as good, even if she wasn’t quite succeeding. The old woman turned around with a few bolts of fabrics in her arms, the mauve organza, a soft, cream colored fabric that looked somewhat silken texture. A spring green fabric with a delicate white pattern. She placed them all on the table next to the blue fabric. Kestrel inspected them. They all looked nice enough, and she honestly didn’t know much about this stuff anyway. She could patch a shirt if she needed to, or maybe hem a pair of paints, but that was about as far as her skill with a needle went. The real artist was… 

Without even thinking, her hand had moved from the green fabric back to the blue. The woman sent her a sympathetic look. “Do you need it for something special?” she asked, her eyes once again inspecting Kestrel’s attire. From the bowler hat to the suspenders, to the worn, thigh-high boots, Kestrel wasn’t unstylish, but “delicate” and “pretty” was probably not words anyone would use to describe her, unlike the fabric she seemed so taken with. Kestrel glanced at the woman and pulled her hand back with a small sheepish nod. “Yeah, just a gift,” she mumbled with an apologetic smile. Why did she feel so awkward? The woman nodded. Then her brow furrowed, and with a surprising speed, she reached out and snatched Kestrel’s wrist, turning it over in her hand. Kestrel barely had time to react as the woman pushed the sleeve up to expose more of the tattoo that had peaked out under the white fabric. Crude, somewhat faded lines depicting a wolf in a stalking position appeared. The woman regarded it with an iron expression until Kestrel pulled her hand back and annoyed pulled the sleeve back down. She needed to be more careful now that she was back in Ishgard. In Limsa Lominsa or Ul’dah, the tattoo would likely have meant nothing to most people, but here, it was another story. “You run with the Ice Wolves?” she asked, her tone unreadable. Kestrel sighed. If the woman had hesitated to throw her out before, she probably wouldn’t for much longer. “Not anymore…” Kestrel’s tone was dismissive, her shoulders raising as she pushed her hands into her pocket. Maybe she should steal the fabric after all. Tonight perhaps, or another day. She blinked as the woman reached out and tilted her head up to look at her closer. “My... Graham’s sister, are you? Yes, I’ve heard of you.”

Kestrel blinked, surprised. They were well outside of the Wolves’ usual territory, and she doubted Graham would be able to demand protection money in this part of town. The woman’s expression softened. “Well, it was years ago,” she said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. But you do look so much like him.” She let go of Kestrel’s face, inspecting her for a moment. “Tell you what. I owe Graham a favor, he was good to me once. Why don’t I give you a few yards of the blue fabric and you tell him to stop by for tea when you see him, yes?” Kestrel blinked again, stunned. This was not the kind of people she expected owing Graham favors, if that was what this could be called. She finally caught herself and nodded eagerly. “Of course. Thank you, if there’s anything I can ever do for you…” she rambled as the woman pulled out a pair of large, elegant silver scissors decorated with vines and flowers, and cut a line through the fabric. Then she folded it neatly, wrapping a piece of silk paper around it and putting it into a neat, rose-colored box before sending Kestrel a small smile. “Thank you, dear, I will keep that in mind, I am sure you are a person of many talents.” She handed Kestrel the box, and for a moment, Kestrel could have sworn she winked. She took the box with a sense of reverie, looking at it before sending the lady a wide grin and tipping her hat. 

When she left the store, it had started to snow.

Fabric Source

[sunny6677]

Thoughts

A Red Guy x Reader x Duck Guy (poly)

Chapter 2: Playing Along

TW: Throw up mentions, mentions of weapons.

(NOTE: Apologies if this one isn't as good as the first, or a bit short. I'm a bit tired and have homework to do.)

--------------

Y/N stared at the breakfast before them, their lips quivered.

Whether this was going to taste good or not was a mystery, but they had to do it anyway. If they didn't want to seem any more suspicious, they would just have to eat it.

After a bit of poking and prodding, Y/N took the doll-like bacon off of the plate and bit into it.

A warm, deep flavor filled their mouth to the brim with the hotness of the sun-- they couldn't believe it, it actually tasted decent!

It wasnt like normal bacon-- it was more chewy than regular bacon but it was still crunchy enough.

It was almost lighter compared to normal bacon, light as feather in fact. It almost shocked them with how delicate it was.

And as for the eggs, they tasted like regular eggs, but felt somewhat different.

It felt almost firm, harsh with how hard the "fabric" of it was. They couldn't believe some red monsters cooking was actually this great.

"Y/N? Y/N!"

The squeaky voice of the Duck piped up inside their ear holes, causing them to flinch up in surprise.

The Duck furrowed his eyebrows, and pouted in a childish like manner. "See? They're not even paying any attention to me!"

"Oh come on, they were just eating. And didn't I tell you we could discuss this after we were done?" Asked the Red one, looking stern-- the Duck only turned his head away in response to this scolding gesture.

"Yeah, but they're disrespecting me! Usually they're never this quiet!" Whined the Duck, letting out a snort of frustration.

The Red one only rolled its eyes; "So what? They should be allowed to be quiet when they want to. Can't you leave them be until breakfast is over?"

The arguing became muffled as Y/N spaced out, unsure of what to say. Their breath quivered.

They could only hope that the fighting would stop soon, and that they could do a further investigation as to why they were there.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Y/N shuffled through what they only presumed to be the closet, now they were back in the red bedroom, and searching for their "normal clothes".

They didn't have any memory of what their supposed normal clothes, but they didn't feel like asking for help either. They didn't want any more concern then they were given already.

Endless overcoats and overalls hung from the hangers, making them sigh in exhaustion.

All the overcoats were different, and they couldn't tell which overcoat belonged to them. But that didn't seem to be the only thing on their mind.

They needed to figure out where they were-- what the weaknesses of their presumed kidnappers were and any easy escape routes. They needed to find a way out, they couldn't stay here inside this.. strange realm.

Groaning in frustration, they clenched their hand on a random overcoat and dragged it off its hanger.

They began to put it on harshly, nearly cutting their fingers with how hard they were attempting to put it on.

Their thoughts screamed at them; endless ideas of how they could get out poured into their head. But a rumble of exhaustion flooded their mind as well.

"Y/N? I say, what are you doing?!--"

The familiar, high pitched male voice faintly sounded inside the room.

A flinch erupted inside Y/Ns shoulders, making them turn harshly around in surprise; they weren't expecting anyone to walk in. And nor did they expect to fall at such a rapid speed.

Their body contorted downwards, and a gigantic pain spilled out into the lower area of their torso. They had bumped into the wall, and now their back was hurt. Great. Just great.

"Ho-- hold on, wait a second-- is.. is that my overcoat?!" Asked the Duck, his eyes widening in slight surprise.

"Um.. I didn't-- think it was yours.." Y/N winced, the pain pulsed over and over inside their lower back.

The cramp was growing stronger with each little movement they made, and they didn't know if it would go away.

The Duck progressed towards them, waddling rather aggressively.

"What do you mean you didn't think it was mine? Of course it belongs to me! I'm the only one who wears overcoats in this house!" Complained the Duck.

"Oh, err.. right.. sorry." Y/N then began to unbutton the overcoat, their face flushed hot red with waves of embarrassment crashing down onto them.

The thoughts inside their head overwhelmed them once more; they didn't know why they cared about embarrassing themself in front of their presumed captor.

"Are-- are you going to stop that or not?! Why do you keep saying that?!" Said the Duck with an irritated expression. Y/N raised their eyebrow, and only averted their gaze with a slight tremor of anxiety.

"What do you mean?" They said, not thinking before they spoke.

"You keep apologizing for no reason! You claimed you were tired this morning and that was why, but it's the middle of the day now! You shouldn't still be tired now." Snarled the Duck in a small little form of anger.

Y/N didn't know what to say to this, but spoke up once more anyway;

"I know.. i'll-- I'll leave now.. maybe if I eat something, I'll have a bit more energy." Said Y/N, standing up and only looking at the ground.

"Good! And give that here, that's mine!" The overcoat came off of them, twisting and contorting off with a shuffle of sounds. Y/N didn't say anything to the Ducks gesture, and walked away.

They heard the Duck mutter incoherent stuff about disrespect and what not behind them as they closed the door, but they did not show a care in the world.

They'd have to investigate now; there was no way they could if the Duck was still down there and interrupting them.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Y/N searched the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom and only found regular household items. No weapons that could be used on them or for self defense. And they did not know of whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Y/N sighed; unsure of what they were supposed to now. They considered grabbing the knife in the kitchen so they could interrogate the three who had presumably captured them, but they decided against it as they thought of it as too soon.

They sat on a chair in the living room, a blanket from their bed resting comfortably on their lap. They played with their fingers, spinning around in their chair, consumed by their thoughts of absolute nothing.

As they found themself descending deeper into their daze, they heard the sounds of footsteps approaching and quickly spun around to see who it was. A bright color of red greeted them, and so did the realization of who it was. The Red One.

The Red One only stood, idled in a motionless stance while staring emotionlessly. Y/N gulped at the sight, and only said; "Oh, it's, uh.. you. Hey.."

"Um, yeah, i... I guess it.. is." The awkward, English voice replied-- the Red One glanced around the room, seemingly glancing for a spot to sit. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the kitchen?" It asked.

"Um-- I didn't feel like.. talking." Said Y/N, mentally facepla,ing themself for that pathetic of an excuse. "Oh, I see.." Muttered the Red One. The atmosphere went completely silent, as the two only stared nervously at the walls and anywhere but eachother.

The ticking of the clock echoed throughout the walls of the living room, the small sound waves of it bouncing off of the walls and making the silence only grow further. The Red One sighed, and walked toward a chair right next to Y/N, sitting down comfortably.

It rested its hands on its knees, and stared at the floor. The ticking went by another minute or two, causing Y/N to grow impatient. What was it doing? Was it taunting them? Was it doing this on purpose?

"Uhh.. hey. Is there-- is there anything wrong? You've been acting kind of weird today." It asked, sounding soft spoken and possibly even worried. Y/N raised a brow at this, and answered with; "N.. No, I don't believe so. I-- I don't know, I just feel a bit tired today. That's all."

"You said that this morning.." Commented the Red One. Y/N did not know what to say to this, and only sighed in response. The Red One showed a flash of concern in its glare, and seemed to be thinking.

"Hey, tell you what-- the others are waiting for us in the kitchen. And I've got to make dinner-- so maybe we should go and eat for now. We can talk about this after if you'd like to." Said The Red One, looking down at the floor.

Y/N felt like grumbling, why was the red one so insistent on something being wrong? It was right, but still-- they didn't want to look suspicious, and right now, the red thing wasn't helping at all. They honestly couldn't tell if it was doing it on purpose anymore.

Y/N sighed.

"Fine.. I'll go. So-- sorry, didn't mean to sound rude there.." Quickly apologized Y/N, clasping their hands together in an apologetic manner. "No, thats alright-- just head on up to the kitchen, I'll be there in a bit." It replied, holding up its fingerless "hands".

"Um.. alright. See you.. then."

"Um-- bye, well, not bye.. see-- see you in the kitchen."

Y/N gulped down the weird wave of embarrassment washing up in their throat, they felt as if they could barf up the awkwardness in the room right that instant. They felt nauseous, even though they didn't even directly know this monster.

Y/N walked out of the living room, and slowly began to walk forward to the kitchen-- they heard the faint voices of the Duck and the Yellow One coming from inside and paused. Just another night of this, and when they had all gone to sleep, they could be finally left alone to escape.

All they had to do was play along with their little game. But they didn't know why the little game in question was pretending they were their roommate. They acted as if they had actually been living with them for whatever reason. And Y/N couldn't figure put why.

Y/N just shook their head. With a deep breath; they stepped in and walked toward the table with a forced smile. If they wanted to play with them, then they'd get a decent round of fun before their playtime was over.

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved. 

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack. 

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone. 

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished. 

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear. 

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right. 

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.” 

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest. 

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods. 

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand. 

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb. 

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you. 

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well. 

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening. 

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand? 

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold. 

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you.  There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

 They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to. 

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received. 

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes. 

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts. 

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder. 

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display. 

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however. 

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out. 

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea. 

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser. 

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.” 

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that. 

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear. 

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late. 

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor. 

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place. 

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further. 

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier. 

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use. 

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up. 

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking. 

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them. 

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky. 

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased. 

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge, 

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head. 

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received. 

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path. 

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath. 

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him. 

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze. 

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons. 

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man. 

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand. 

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground. 

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form. 

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied. 

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two. 

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt. 

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high. 

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you. 

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone. 

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face. 

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water. 

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest. 

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge. 

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers. 

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off. 

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree. 

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing. 

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned. 

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant. 

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you. 

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms. 

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms. 

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there. 

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. 

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment. 

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him. 

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay. 

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home. 

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence. 

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood. 

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors. 

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke. 

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader. 

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place. 

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak. 

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going. 

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively. 

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg. 

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack. 

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream. 

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N). 

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream. 

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity. 

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was. 

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing. 

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat. 

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack. 

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet. 

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it. 

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack. 

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head. 

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment. 

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity. 

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message. 

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate. 

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form. 

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand. 

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them. 

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze. 

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly. 

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

 “I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief. 

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...” 

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. 

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-” 

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself. 

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother. 

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward. 

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed. 

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested. 

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room. 

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over. 

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression. 

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages. 

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through. 

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands. 

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support. 

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered. 

You nodded in agreement. 

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life. 

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be. 

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place. 

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school. 

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers). 

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed. 

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.” 

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels. 

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. 

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators. 

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so. 

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother. 

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay. 

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital. 

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours. 

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands. 

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone. 

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping. 

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals. 

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering. 

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh. 

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny. 

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift. 

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met. 

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well. 

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it. 

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace. 

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck. 

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly. 

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it. 

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok. 

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face. 

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state. 

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you. 

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission. 

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe. 

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap. 

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled. 

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you. 

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.” 

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer. 

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge. 

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together. 

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days. 

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss. 

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working. 

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan. 

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her. 

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.” 

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand. 

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief. 

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity. 

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them. 

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month. 

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms. 

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod. 

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken. 

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way? 

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime 

[lightsovermonaco]

Speed and Stress: Part 2

Masterlist

Thank you to @acollectionofficsandshit for betaing, your comments on this one were unhinged gold 

Word Count: 3.1k

Recommended Vibes: “Perfect Day” by Tundra Beats

Part 1

Your brother was late. Not that anyone was surprised.

“Got the time mixed up,” he says as you climb into his absurdly tall truck. Living in Texas for three years had turned him into somewhat of a country boy, though not enough that he forgot his upbringing. He was still a blue blooded Los Angeles boy, just with a love for trucks and longhorn cattle.

“At least I wasn’t waiting for an hour this time,” you say and sling your bag to the backseat. Deciding to get right to the good stuff, you clasp  your hands together. “So! I have some news.”

Hunter grins at you. “You finally found a job?”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a pointed look. “No, dipshit. Better than that. I got us paddock passes for the whole weekend.”

“WHAT?” He jerks the wheel, horns honking at you as other drivers swerve. You grab the dash to steady yourself, laughing at his outburst. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get general admission tickets? How the hell did you get paddock passes?”

“May have met someone pretty high up at McLaren in Los Angeles,” you say, examining your nails.

“Like, Zak Brown? You met Zak Brown?” Hunter was such a fan boy, you had to laugh. His love for McLaren ran so deep he practically bled blue and orange. The only reason you watched the sport was because of him shoving it down your throat for years, but damn if you weren't glad for it.

“Daniel Ricciardo.”

Hunter choked on air but managed to stay in his lane this time. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know it was him when I met him! He was on a motorcycle and I stopped to help film a tiktok and then-”

“Of course you’d stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker for bikes.”

“Yeah well, lucky that I am, cause all I had to do was flirt to get us those passes.”

Your intention had never been to take advantage of Daniel. It was more the opposite in fact; you were just living in the moment and capitalizing on the once in a lifetime opportunity to flirt with your celebrity crush. You had to admit, it turned out better than you'd ever thought it would.

“I can’t believe you seduced Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo,” he says, shaking his head. “You astound me.”

“I didn’t seduce him!” You protest.

"Sorry my bad. You charmed him. That sound better?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. I damn near had a heart attack when I figured out it was him but he was kind enough to let me brush it off."

"Well, thank god for your two-wheeled obsession because without it, we would be watching the prix from the nosebleeds."

You laugh and shake your head. Hunter tended to have a poor filter when he was excited and tended to spew whatever was on his mind. "Just watch your tongue this weekend, alright? I'd rather embarrass myself than have you do it for me."

Hunter gives a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

**********

You'd stuffed five different outfits in your bag in preparation for the grand prix weekend. In theory, it shouldn't be hard to decide what to wear. But Friday morning you changed clothes so many times you lost count. No matter what combination you tried you weren't satisfied.

Finally, you give up and settle on a McLaren polo and denim shorts. Simple and comfortable, but form fitting enough to catch Daniel's eye should you run into him.

You knew you shouldn't, but you pull out your phone to text him anyway.

Thanks again for the tickets. Let me know if you've got any free time so I can properly thank you!

You hit send before your brain has the chance to overanalyze the message. You check your phone obsessively the entire drive to the circuit, only half expecting a response. You tuck your phone in your pocket when you get to the gates, determined not to let it get to you. Daniel warned you he would be busy, and you knew that responding to you was likely on the low end of his list of priorities.

Hunter gets you to the circuit a half hour before they let fans in and you have to listen to him ramble about driver stats the entire time. Normally you don't mind; guessing who's most likely to win each Sunday is something of a competition in your household. But today, you couldn't focus enough to put any thought into your prediction, instead just blurting Daniel's name.

"You're only saying that cause he's into you," Hunter says, grinning savagely. "He struggles in Austin and you know it."

"So? He's in a McLaren this year. You saw his pace in Bahrain, and that was with a damaged floor! He'll podium for sure." You cross your arms and return his grin. "Besides, he's motivated."

"Oh, is he?"

"I told him I'd buy the winner of the United States grand prix a drink. Up to him whether it's him or Verstappen."

"Oh my god you have a date with Daniel Ricciardo?"

"Dude, chill out. It's not set in stone. Honestly, he's probably forgotten that I exist."

"Has he texted you?"

You glance down at your phone and are greeted with an empty inbox. "No. Not after the initial time so I could have his number." You shrug and pick an invisible piece of lint from your arm. "But he said he'd be too busy anyway."

"Guess we'll see once we get to will call, huh? If he's forgotten about you."

"Yeah." An odd feeling rolls through you. It feels a bit like nerves mixed with hope, but you stamp down on it. You were here to enjoy yourself. The trip of a lifetime had been handed to you on a golden platter and you were wont to let something as trivial as nervousness ruin it.

Bells chime as you step into the blissfully cool will call office. A blonde woman with a bit too much blush dusted on her cheeks greets you with a smile. 

"What can I do for you?"

"Picking up some tickets that were left for me by a driver?" You try, unsure of the proper procedure. "I don't have a paper or anything."

She waves a hand in the air as if she expected as much. "All I need is your identification. They should be under the name."

"Oh uh, of course." You motion for Hunter to hand over your wallet and show the woman your driver's license.

"Great. Wait here and I'll grab those for you."

You drum your fingers on the desk while waiting for her to return. After what feels like ages she re-emerges empty handed.

"I'm not seeing anything here with your name on it," she says, her plastic smile at odds with her sincerity. "I'm afraid your tickets aren't valid until Sunday."

"Can you double check? Daniel said they'd be here-"

"So sorry. There's no record of anyone dropping tickets off for you."

You blink, holding your tongue in the face of her blunt response. "Okay. I guess ill try and get it sorted out."

Hunter breaks the tension. "Can't you call him?"

"I can't just call him, I'm sure he's busy."

"Either that or we don't get in. Just do it, he gave you his number and specifically told you to let him know if there were any problems, didn't he?"

Yes he had, but that didn't mean you wanted to disturb him. He was probably knees deep in some sort of race weekend press conference or drivers meeting and heaven forbid you interrupt.  But it was either that or you slink home disappointed and empty handed.

"Fine," you grumble, pulling out your phone with deliberate slowness. Hunter crosses his arms and tips his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well?"

"It's dialing, you good for nothing busybody-"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call," Daniel answers, voice radiating sunshine.

You cut right to the chase, not giving yourself a single second to evaluate how your heart skips. "Look, I don't wanna distract you on a race weekend but I'm at will call and they're telling me they can't find any passes left for me."

"Let me guess," he starts, raising his voice to be heard over the pneumatic tools in the background, "You're dealing with Jenny?"

Your eyes fall to the name on the woman's lanyard. She shifts under your gaze like she knew exactly who you were on the phone with. "Yep. Spot on."

"Kinda figured she would be a problem. She's got a huge crush on me and does this every time."

You fight back the strange sensation his offhand comment brings to the surface. "Oh, really?"

"I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes or so."

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Hey, no big deal. I gotta go that way anyway."

"Uh, okay. See you soon?"

"Yup. On my way."

You hang up and stare down at the phone, stunned.

"Well?" Hunter asks.

"I guess he's coming here to sort it out himself."

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Hold on. Are you telling me that I get to meet Daniel? Like right now?"

"Can you relax?" You laugh lightly. "Honestly you're gonna freak him out."

"Uh, yeah sure. No big deal, just meeting one of my favorite drivers in the minus five minutes and I'm completely unprepared. It's fine."

If you roll your eyes any harder they'd pop out of your head. "Relax. He's laid back, but I don't want you to freak out and embarrass us both."

"Excuse me," Jenny breaks in, her distaste clear. "Please move aside if you're not picking up passes."

"Er, yeah. Sorry." You shuffle awkwardly off to the side to wait. Cheesy elevator music plays and Jenny shoots you glares until the door squeaks open and the human incarnation of the sun steps inside. Your breathing stutters when the Australian shoots you a wink and a grin before sauntering up to the counter.

"Why hello there Jen," he says, and she giggles coyly. 

"Hi Daniel." She lays a hand on his forearm, the touch light and flirty. "What can I help you with?"

Daniel leans into her, whispering conspiratorially. Whatever he says has her bold smile faltering, replaced by a mask of professional cheer. Daniel shoots you another wink as the woman retreats to a back room, returning moments later with your supposedly missing passes.

"Thank you," Daniel says sweetly, taking them from her and turning to you. "I think these are yours."

"Thanks." You take the passes and hand one off to your awestruck brother. You nudge him and he comes to his senses in time to shake the hand Daniel sticks out.

"You must be the brother," he says. "I see you're a fan."

Dressed head to toe in McLaren colors, there was no other conclusion for Daniel to draw. For once your brother is the one stunned into silence so you answer for him, "Yeah, only a little. He was crushed when you left Red Bull cause Max is his other favorite driver and now he has to split his loyalties between teams."

Dan's laugh snaps Hunter out of his trance. "I know you're busy but do you think you can sign something for me?"

"Of course. How about this?" Daniel snatches the hat from Hunter's head and produces a sharpie from his pocket, signing the brim with practiced efficiency. 

"He'll be texting the group chat about that as soon as you're gone," you tell Daniel who laughs along with you.

Heat rises to your cheeks as Daniel's assessing gaze sweeps you from head to toe. "McLaren orange looks good on you."

Channeling his easy confidence you flash him a grin. "Not as good as it looks on you."

He smooths the hem of his soft shell jacket, smile turning bashful. "Anyway. I gotta run. See you Sunday after I win!"

Your eyes follow him as he jogs back through the paddock until he's swallowed by the crowd. You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. God, he was gorgeous. And he had such a big heart. It was a shame someone hadn't snatched him up yet, but then again, that meant you still had a shot, even if it was a slim one.

"So where exactly do these get us?" Hunter toys with the lanyard now placed around his neck. "It doesn't say."

"I'm guessing the McLaren lounge," you say and point to the logo on the passes. "Above the garage."

"That's the perfect vantage point for practice."

And it was the perfect view- before getting in the car Daniel walked out into the pit, suited up in his cobalt racesuit and minty helmet and glanced up. You weren't sure if he saw you or not when you waved but he gave a little salute nonetheless.

Hunter was practically glued to the bank of floor to ceiling windows for the entirety of free practice, immersing himself in the experience. You found yourself glancing at the timing tables every lap, silently hoping to see the RIC tag move up. By the end of the second session he had been fourth fastest, a few tenths behind both Mercedes and the Red Bull of Verstappen. 

By the time you make it back to Hunter's house, you're both exhausted from a full day of running up and down the paddock. The pair of you had been determined to soak up every second of it, sneaking into whatever offices you could and stealing bites off the buffets and cups of coffee. 

Saturday’s free practice and qualifying session pass in a blur of color. Daniel drags his McLaren up the ranks to qualify fourth, his best starting position so far this season. He had a decent shot at the podium- Bottas should be easy pickings and if Verstappen and Hamilton made any mistakes, Daniel might even have a shot at the win.

The excitement in the air is palpable as you both flash your badges and head back up the now familiar path to the McLaren lounge. An hour before lights out, the v6 engines rumble to life below. You venture out onto the balcony, watching and waiting for a glimpse of Daniel.

The Aussie does you one better by walking out, race suit on and helmet in hand. He chats animatedly with Michael before stopping and craning his neck upwards. Michael nudges him with his elbow but Dan ignores him, answering your tiny wave with a wink. He mimes taking a drink and you roll your eyes.

Dan throws his head back and laughs, audible over the cacophony below. He gives you one final salute before Michael drags him back into the garage.

Ten minutes later cars begin streaming out on track, Daniel taking the fourth grid place as his mechanics once again swarm him. Tire blankets are secured, keeping them warm and pliable ahead of the formation lap. Thirty seconds before the boys are released, they're peeled back off as everyone scrambles off the pavement. Verstappen leads them away down the 3.4 mile track for the formation lap. Dan does a few small power slides before taking his place on the second row.

One by one, the red lights illuminate and disappear quicker than your blink. Daniel gets away clean while Bottas stumbles out of the gate, leaving himself wide open for Daniel's overtake on his right side. Cheers erupt around you, your brother going so far as to lift you off your feet.

Maybe Dan had a shot at winning after all.

A nail-biting 38 laps pass without a change in the order of the top three. Finally, a mistake in Max's pit stop sees him return to track third, just behind Daniel. The McLaren driver puts up the fight of his life, late braking at every corner and defending his position for all he was worth. Lewis was twenty seconds ahead- he wouldn't be winning but he could defend his second place spot.

Lewis Hamilton, race winner for the seventh time at the Circuit of the Americas!

Daniel Ricciardo crosses the line second, Max Verstappen takes home that last podium step for Red Bull. An astonishing fifty six laps here today in Austin!

The box erupts around you, a roar of cheers making it impossible to hear what else Crofty and Brundle were saying. But it didn't matter as Daniel raises his fist when he swings back into parc ferme, jumping out to be congratulated by his team. It was his first podium for the papaya team and you can tell it means the world to them.

"Looks like you're taking Lewis out for a drink," your brother teases. "Told you he wouldn't win."

"He almost won," you counter. "But hey, I'm not above asking Lewis on a date. Could you imagine? I mean, he would never agree, but still. It would be a hell of a date."

If you crane your neck from the balcony, you can just barely see the podium. Everyone goes quiet for the anthems and erupts again when the champagne is sprayed. The McLaren team chant for a shoey, which Daniel obliges. He sits to unlace his mint green boot and pours champagne into it, drinking from the boot before passing it to Max who joins in on the fun. 

Just as quickly as it began, the celebrations ebb. Daniel is the first to leave the podium which seems odd, given that the PR department surely wants his first big win for the team to be well documented.

Your phone buzzes a second layer. You fish it out of your pocket, a Cheshire grin splitting your face.

"Shouldn't you be busy celebrating?"

"I am," Dan starts, sounding breathless. You can barely hear him over the sound of the crowds chants behind him. "But I want to celebrate with you. I know I didn't win, but how about you let me buy you a drink instead?"

You barely hear anything beyond his first sentence. I want to celebrate with you. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real.

"Um, I'm sorry, you want to celebrate by going out with me instead of your team?"

"If you'll let me. Hey- just text me okay? I can barely hear you over everyone screaming my name. It may be going to my head."

You laugh, drawing the attention of the vip's nearest you. You give an apologetic smile and move further from the crowd. "I'll text you an address. See you later, second place."